


Before We Turn to Stone

by errrnflips, IzzexIsEndgame (errrnflips)



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Endgame, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 47,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24663157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/errrnflips/pseuds/errrnflips, https://archiveofourown.org/users/errrnflips/pseuds/IzzexIsEndgame
Summary: A reimagining of Grey's Anatomy Season 16 and the farewell to Alex Karev!When Meredith Grey was at risk of losing her medical license, her best friend Alex did what he needed to do: he rallied troops, near and far, to support the incredible surgeon.That included Izzie Stevens.What happened next opened doors that haven't been opened for years, revealed secrets that weren't meant to be shared, and rekindled a love story that everyone, even its central players, thought had died long ago.I love talking about Grey's and especially Izzex, so if you have thoughts, I'd love to hear them (and of course receive your kudos!)
Relationships: Alex Karev/Isobel "Izzie" Stevens, Izzex - Relationship
Comments: 64
Kudos: 143





	1. Season 16, Episode 9: Back In Your Head

_"Build a wall of books_

_Between us in our bed_

_Repeat, repeat the words_

_That I know we both have said_

_Relax into the need_

_We get so comfortable_

_Remember when I was_

_So strange and likable._

_I just want back in your head_

_I just want back in your head_

_I'm not unfaithful but I'll stray_

_When I get a little scared_

_When I get a little scared."_

***

Miranda Bailey's office: she's at her desk, phone to her ear. She's focused; determined; ready to swing into action as soon as the person on the other end will let her get to work.

"Yes... yes. We'll be ready. Mhm. Goodbye."

She hangs up the phone and places her palms flat on her desk for just a second; her eyes close and she gives her head a brief, clearing shake. She starts to push up from her desk and move for the door when Dr. Casey Parker comes inside, a tower of folders in his hands.

"Dr. Bailey," Parker starts, "the interim chief resident needs—"

He doesn't finish his sentence because it is immediately obvious that Bailey is not listening.

"Good, Parker. I need hands today and I need someone who's not an idiot and I am not sure a lot of things, but I am at least fairly certain that you are not an idiot."

Parker straightens up as she starts to scribble notes on a pad. "Anything you need, Dr. Bailey." He's clearly anticipating scrubbing in: he's seen the board today and Bailey is busy, lap colies and two whipples and a colectomy.

"We have..." Scribble, scribble. "A visiting surgeon arriving tomorrow morning. I'm assigning you as her liaison. She will need privileges, so go ahead and get that set up, Nurse Lakshmi will tell you who to talk to. Patient files are arriving today by courier, I've authorized you to sign for them. I'll need them input into our systems for digital access."

Parker has deflated, just a centimeter, and it doesn't escape Bailey's notice. "Can you handle all that, Dr. Parker? Did I make an incorrect assumption about you and potential idiocy?"

"You did not, Dr. Bailey."

Parker straightens as Bailey advances towards him around the desk. "This is an... unusual situation, Dr. Parker. I would like nothing better for this to go smoothly, but I know this hospital and I know my people and I know this is... It's unusual, Parker, and for once I would just like things to be business as usual. Can you take care of this for me?"

"Yes, Dr. Bailey, I can."

She rips the paper from her notepad and presses it into his palm. "Do it and you can scrub in with the visiting doctor: her first surgery tomorrow is a complex adrenalectomy."

Parker straightens again. "Absolutely, Dr. Bailey. Thank you." He turns to go.

"And Parker? Page me when Dr. Stevens arrives."

***

Meredith Grey is back at Grey Sloan and it feels like the sun has come out. It's as if the trial happened to another person. She can almost forget her trash detail and the scene with Andrew and the mess with Pac North and everything else. She's home.

Even the board is beautiful; she almost wants to grin at it but satisfies herself with a contented sigh. She has plans today: push through on all the surgeries she had to postpone, excoriate whichever resident is responsible for the horribly sloppy charting done for her patients while she was gone, fill the rest of the week with surgery after surgery to scratch the itch she'd been feeling since she left.

"Good morning, Dr. Grey. Welcome back."

"Parker," she greets the intern, then does a double take when he carefully steps to the board and pulls out a dry erase marker. "Parker, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

He snaps into that military-attention thing he does but doesn't cap his marker. "Dr. Bailey has me arranging for a visiting surgeon arriving tomorrow. A surgical oncologist. She has six or seven patients she'll be working with while she's here."

Parker hands her a sheet of paper, a list of surgeries which she scans (noting absently that his handwriting does not match the chicken scratch from the terrible charting.) She's struck with a flash of intrigue that almost borders professional jealousy. "This is a dream list, Parker. I want you to pack the gallery for this complex adrenalectomy." She lets the grin she's been holding back cover her face. "Bring popcorn."

He grins back and moves back to the board. "Yes ma'am."

Meredith is about to turn away when Parker's notation on the board triggers her attention. She steps forward and unconsciously wraps her fingers around his wrist to stop him before he can complete his entry under the attending surgeon: I. Stevens.

"Parker. What's the visiting surgeon's name?"

"Dr. Stevens. Isobel Stevens."

That coming home feeling? That disappears.

***

Alex.

Normally the person she'd talk to whenever her brain and chest and spinal cord are burning with this hot, angry sensation would be Alex. Because Alex gets anger.

But obviously this is something she cannot talk about with Alex.

Cristina gets anger too, but she can't talk about it with Cristina. Even though Cristina has been texting her with unusual frequency today – something about a gift for Meredith she's had delivered to the hospital – this is not a conversation she can do over text, and Cristina is impossible to pin down long enough to call during daylight hours.

So that leaves Bailey.

Bailey, who she doesn't particularly want to fight with, given their tenuous return to friendship.

Bailey, who is just letting Izzie Stevens waltz back into Grey Sloan like she didn't leave a tsunami of damage in her wake, breaking Alex's heart and – if she's honest with herself – part of Meredith's.

Bailey, who was there for all of it, and knows what it would mean for Izzie Stevens to come back.

She pushes the surgeries she'd planned and instead takes her mountain of paperwork into the Chief's office to wait.

Bailey doesn't come into her office until 2 PM, still in her scrub cap, an electric green smoothie in her hand. She gives Meredith a long, measured look before she shakes her head and walks to her desk.

"Izzie Stevens." Meredith doesn't so much say the words as much as bite them off.

"Miranda Bailey, actually, last time I checked." Bailey collapses into her chair and takes a long draw off her smoothie.

"You're letting Izzie Stevens have surgeon's privileges here."

"Should I not?" Bailey hits a few keys on her computer and swivels the screen to face Meredith. Izzie's face is filling the screen. "Is there some reason, Dr. Grey, that I shouldn't let Dr. Isobel Stevens, currently of Shawnee County Hospital, former fellow of Complex General Surgical Oncology at Duke University, former general surgery resident at Northwestern University, take privileges at Grey Sloan?"

Meredith ignores the impressive pedigree. "Maybe she committed insurance fraud."

Bailey presses her lips, either to hide a smirk or to keep from shouting. She takes another sip of the smoothie. "Let's pretend, for a minute, Grey, that we are grownups," she starts. "Not me. I've been a grownup since before you were alive. But you. Let's pretend that _you_ are a grownup."

Meredith's anger almost gives way to a wave of giddiness: having Bailey yell at her again brings the feeling of home roaring back.

"Now, let's pretend as well that this is a hospital. A _hospital,_ not a high school cafeteria or a video game message board or Snapchat or wherever else children hash out their hurt feelings." She points the smoothie at Meredith. "Now. Let me ask you again. Is there a reason – a _medical_ or _business-related reason –_ I shouldn't let Dr. Stevens, a board-certified surgeon, do her job and save some very sick people's lives?!"

"What are you going to tell Alex Karev?"

"Does Alex Karev work in this hospital?!"

"Jo Karev, then."

"Grey." Bailey puts her palms flat on her desk. "The Karevs are not my problem. Frankly, right now my biggest problem is you, as you prevent me from finishing my lunch. Now. Is there something I can help you with that does not involve your personal life?!"

Meredith doesn't bother to answer. She turns and stalks to the door.

"Be a grownup, Grey!" Bailey yells after her as the door slams.

***

She pulls a few strings first: gets Teddy Altman to enlist Jo to scrub in on any incoming traumas that day, including a particularly nasty incoming MVC, which should keep Jo from running into Izzie before Meredith can get a handle on this; convinces Parker to page her when Dr. Stevens arrives; texts Alex a cryptic "WE NEED TO TALK" and arranges to meet him at the loft later that night. Then she sits down with a fresh batch of paperwork and waits.

When Parker finally pages, adrenaline spikes through her body, all the way to the balls of her feet. But she still doesn't act. She finishes her paperwork, schedules a full day of surgery for the next morning, and calls the babysitter to make sure Zola has gotten started on her science fair project.

Then she goes to find Izzie.

Bailey has had Parker set her up in the visiting surgeon's office on the third floor – a calming space done up in cream and white and serene potted plants. And there is Izzie, seated at the desk, blond head bent over an open case file. She's wearing a cozy navy sweater and little gold hoops. A chunky handmade bracelet – Meredith has one almost exactly like it that Ellis made for her in pre-k – circles her wrist.

Meredith squares herself in the open doorway and makes to knock, but Izzie looks up first.

She is simultaneously familiar and a stranger; it makes Meredith's stomach do an uncomfortable clench. Before she recognizes Meredith, her brown eyes are warm, her face pleasant and open: older than Meredith remembers, of course, but still unmistakably a face she once knew almost as well as her own.

"Meredith!"

Izzie stands up and walks over to her, reaching out both hands for Meredith's. She doesn't want to, but her body unconsciously lifts her arms and slips her palms into Izzie's. "It's so good to see you!" she says, squeezing Meredith's hands. "I can't believe it's been so long. You look... you look _exactly_ the same!"

Here is where Meredith's brain takes control. She pulls her hands back and crosses her arms hard across her chest. "What are you doing here, Izzie?"

A shadow of confusion moves over Izzie's face, but she hides it with a smile. "My west coast patients," she answers. "I'm based in Kansas, now, I'm sure you've heard, and I had several endocrine patients recommended to me from west coast facilities: Vancouver, LA, Seattle as well. Some of them were too... well, Kansas isn't exactly easy to get to, even when you're not half poisoned from radiation and chemotherapy."

Either Meredith's losing her touch or Izzie is intentionally misunderstanding her. "You know that's not what I—"

She means to go on, but she is no longer alone in the doorway. It's Bailey, back in her lab coat and office wear, with Casey Parker hovering behind her. She shoulders past Meredith as if Meredith is not even there.

"Dr. Stevens," Bailey says, and Meredith is surprised to note that the smile on Bailey's face reaches all the way to her eyes. Bailey is genuinely glad to see Izzie.

"Dr. Bailey!"

The two women chat and Meredith fights down the feeling that she's in a time warp. By the time she comes back to herself, Bailey and Izzie are chuckling about something, and Meredith can hear Bailey saying her name.

"Was Dr. Grey offering to get you reacquainted with the facilities?" Bailey asks. She arches a brow at Meredith, and the warning on her face is one Meredith hasn't seen since she was a resident. "Dr. Parker should be more than capable."

Meredith replies coolly, "Just stopped in to say hello."

"I'm sure you did," Bailey answers, and her warning expression grows a little stronger.

"We'll have to catch up soon," Izzie says; her smile is sincere. "I'm sure you're busy, but I should be here at least a few weeks. There's plenty of time."

"Plenty of time," Meredith answers before she turns on her heel and leaves.

***

She should leave well enough alone – if not because Bailey told her to, then because the best way to get rid of someone you don't want to see is to freeze them out. Meredith can spend two weeks of shutting down any attempt at chitchat or offers to "catch up soon" without breaking a sweat, but the thought doesn't make her feel better. 

Meredith's come a long way from being the girl with abandonment issues. And these days, she knows intimately that you can be a good friend and a vibrant part of someone's life even if you don't see them every day – living nine time zones away from her person has taught her that. But that doesn't change the fact that Izzie chose to leave rather than stay and fight; it doesn't change the fact that Izzie broke Alex's heart and never looked back; it doesn't change the fact that Meredith begged her not to leave their home and Izzie told her it wasn't her home anymore.

So yeah. Meredith won't be leaving things well enough alone. This is a fight she wants.

Izzie's complex adrenalectomy is scheduled for 3 PM, and as Meredith instructed, Parker packed the gallery. So a few hours later, when things are wrapping up, Meredith parks herself in the scrub room for OR 2 and waits.

She waits for Izzie to thank Casey Parker and Bokhee and the rest of the perioperative team, who have finished scrubbing out already. Her scrub cap is electric pink and her cheeks are flushed to match. Her grin is miles wide, triumphant. "It went perfectly," Izzie says to Meredith, who didn't ask. "Textbook. Casey Parker is a good find, too. Steady hands, listens closely... has he picked a specialty yet?"

"What are you doing here, Izzie? Really."

"What are—"

"You can't just show up here, Iz. You really can't. You can't just... run away from your life without a word, like we don't even matter, for _years,_ and then just show up and act like nothing's changed."

The grin is gone from Izzie's face. "Meredith, what are you _talking_ about?" She jerks a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the OR. "I'm here for work. You _did_ see I just finished a four-hour surgery, right?"

Meredith charges ahead; she's too angry to listen, too angry to do anything except rant. "We have lives here, you know. I have a life, Bailey has a life, Alex is _married._ We have lives that have nothing to do with you. What did you expect? To just... drop in and we'd go to Joe's?"

Izzie's face changes again when Meredith says the word "Alex"; some deep, unreadable expression that's almost enough to banish Meredith's anger. She turns to the scrub sink and starts the faucet.

"I have a life too," she answers – quiet, but with an undercurrent of fire. She begins to wash her hands. "I have a life. And I'm not here to... screw things up for you or whatever you think. I'm here to work.

"You're right. It's been years." Her voice, low at first, started to rise. "Do you think I just sat around and just waited until I was bored to drop in and 'go to Joe's?' I finished my residency. I got a fellowship. I worked my ass off, and I became not only a damn good surgeon, but a surgeon that people from all over the country reach out to, hoping I can save their lives.

"And I thought – I _thought_ we were friends enough once that you would assume any reason I might have in coming back was at least... benign! I thought that because it had been years, and because we all had our own lives now, that we could just... catch up instead of hashing out bad blood from almost a decade ago."

She's quiet.

Meredith, still mad but somehow not as mad as before, is quiet.

Izzie rinses her hands, slowly, and then rests them on the edge of the sink. When she looks up again, her face is more composed.

"Alex. He didn't tell you."

"Didn't tell me what?"

"He... it's..." She shakes her head. "Forget it."

"Tell me _what?"_

Izzie dries her hands and tosses the towels into the trash. "Maybe you should... Just talk to him."

She walks for the door, turning at the last minute to meet Meredith's eyes.

"I'm glad your trial went well. Really. And for what it's worth I'm... glad to see you."

She's gone and Meredith is alone in the scrub room.

It takes her a few minutes before her anger burns itself out and she has space to wonder just how Izzie knew about the trial.

It takes a few minutes more to figure it out.

***

Alex opens the door to the loft and the second he meets Meredith's eyes, her suspicions are confirmed.

"You called Izzie."

He pulls the door open wider. "Come on in."

She stays where she is and crosses her arms hard over her chest. "You _called_ her. _Izzie._ Why?"

"Would you get in here already?"

Meredith finally goes into the loft; there's an open bottle of cabernet and two wine glasses next to a sheaf of papers on their dining table. Alex fills the glasses and thrusts one into her hand. They drink.

"I called Izzie," he says. "But not... not like _that._ Okay? So would you just... calm down for five minutes?"

She takes another drink of wine and waits. Alex picks up the papers and thrusts them into her spare hand. She takes a cursory glance, then looks up at him. "The letters? From my trial?"

"I reached out to everyone, Mer. Everyone. And when I was doing that I just... I thought I'd reach out to Izzie too." He flips through the papers and carefully extracts a sheet of crisp paper in a shade of palest blue and places it on the top of the stack. Meredith scans it, recognizing Izzie's perfect Palmer-style script as if through a dream.

"I called her and told her everything that was happening... how you were picking up trash and needed letters to prove you're better than that." Something in his tone makes Meredith glance up into his face. He's smiling, a true smile, and a little bit more of Meredith's anger slips away. "She laughed and said, 'Of course she's picking up trash, trying to save the world.' And she was happy to send the letter. Had it to me within 24 hours.

"When I called her we got to talking and it was just... It was so _normal,_ Mer. It felt good and healthy and just... fine. Like all the crap was just gone and we were just friends again, already, like we'd never stopped."

They're quiet for a minute. Meredith slips the papers into her bag, with Izzie's letter on top... for later.

"Did you tell her to come here?" she asks finally.

He shakes his head. "No... but she said she'd been thinking about planning on coming out anyway. Her mom still lives out here, and she has some patients out on this side of the country that couldn't travel all the way to Kansas."

Meredith levels him with a look; he meets her eyes steadily. He really does seem okay. "And you're just... you're just fine with this? All of it?"

"Yeah. I really am." He studies her. "Aren't you?"

"No... Maybe." She sighs. "I will be."

It's late, and the babysitter is waiting, so she drains her wine and moves back to the door. Before he can let her out, though, she has one more question.

"Does Jo know?"

Aha. Here he hesitates.

"No." She arches an eyebrow at him and Alex rushes on. "But I'm going to tell her. Tonight. Or... tomorrow. Whenever I see her."

"Okay."

"Mer. I am."

She believes him enough to head home.

Tonight, in bed, she'll read all the letters people wrote for her... Izzie's first.


	2. Season 16, Episode 10: You Come Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izzie's back, and that means Alex has to tell Jo.

_"We are waiting_

_For the summer_

_The sun will bring back_

_Treasures for us._

_Come on, my friend,_

_Drink to good times_

_Golden wishes_

_To your health and mine."_

***

He makes breakfast the next morning – takes a special trip to the pop-up French market down the street from the loft because, well, they're officially out of everything. He gets hickory-smoked bacon and some weird, green-and-blue speckled chicken's eggs that somehow cost more than the bacon. He tops it off with two fresh croissants and a tiny little spray of blue flowers he pulls off a tree. It's probably overkill, but Alex isn't taking any chances.

Ultimately, it's not a big deal that Izzie's there. He's got his hands full at Pac North, and she's at Grey Sloan to work, and there's almost no chance they'll run into each other – Seattle's a big city. And really, he doesn't think it'll be a big deal to Jo either. She might not exactly be _excited_ that he called Izzie, but hey, she encouraged him to do so way before he had a legitimate reason to do it.

Still. He's gotta tell her in just the right way. So he ignores the fact that he's kind of an idiot in the kitchen and queues up a YouTube video on the best way to scramble eggs.

Jo wakes up just as he's finishing the bacon and grins at him sleepily. "What's this?" she asks as she pads over to the table.

He slides a plate in front of her. "Eggs are kinda burnt... sorry... but the rest should be good."

"No, it looks great." She takes a big bite of the eggs and a funny look crosses over her face. "Okay, yeah, a little burnt." But she happily grabs a piece of bacon.

They eat in companionable silence. Alex tries half a dozen times to say something, but every time the words get stuck in his throat.

_Hey, Jo, so my ex-wife's in town._

_Hey, Jo, so you might notice a bouncy blond chick in the halls this week... well, guess what?_

_Hey, Jo, so I called Izzie... Just for Mer! Not because I wanted to talk to her, or see how she was doing... even though maybe I kind of did... And when we talked it felt like when you're eight and you get to see your best friend after they've been away at summer camp...._

Every version sounds so stupid he can't even make himself open his mouth. To say nothing of the things he can't say, the things he can barely articulate to himself... Like how _nice_ it was to hear her voice again. Like how he filled with a sun-after-storm feeling when he heard her say his name. And how it felt to make her laugh? Forget it. 

There are plenty of things he can't say; this, he's got to say. It's not fair to keep this kind of thing from Jo.

They're done with breakfast, and she's thanking him for cooking, and she's heading for the shower and he's gotta say it now or it's gonna be a whole thing...

"Izzie's here," he finally blurts out.

Jo turns away from the bathroom and tilts her head at him, confused. "Wait. What did you... what?"

"Izzie." He blows out a hard breath and forces himself to relax. "I, uh... So when I was trying to get those letters for Mer I gave her a call, to see if she'd send one too."

She takes a second to register this. He walks towards her, but she holds up a hand, so he stops a few feet away. "You called Izzie," she repeats. "And now she's... _here?"_

"Yeah. At, uh, at Grey Sloan."

" _What?_ Why?!"

"Just for a couple weeks," he rushes. "Her mom still lives out here, and she wanted to go visit her, and she had some cases on the west coast and so... she's... here... You might meet her..."

His voice trails off. He watches his wife, who looks away from him.

After a minute, she shakes her head and walks into the bathroom. The lock clicks behind her and the shower starts.

***

Meredith Grey is good at a lot of things. Eating crow isn't one of them.

So rather than find Izzie and apologize for biting her head off the day before, she keeps a low profile. She's got enough issues to deal with, given everything that's going on with Maggie and Andrew and playing catch-up at work.

"Why are you lurking?"

Meredith glances sharply at Amelia as her sister comes into the attendings' lounge. "I am not," she answers, ignoring the fact that she's arranged her files around her like a moat.

Amelia pours herself a cup of decaf and lowers herself with a groan onto the couch. "You kind of are. I mean, call it what you like: lurking, skulking, hiding... whatever." She levels a sympathetic look. "Are you hiding from Deluca? I've been hiding from Link. Getting harder to do these days, but there's actually a really good supply closet on 4 I've never noticed; super roomy." She gestures broadly at her pregnant stomach.

"Stop," Meredith cuts her off, but softens it with an affectionate roll of her eyes. "I'm not hiding from Deluca."

Amelia replies, "But you are hiding?"

"Yes. No. Kind of." She huffs. "The visiting oncologist, Dr. Stevens. I'm... _not hiding_ from her."

"Oh, Izzie?"

Meredith rolls her eyes again, decidedly less affectionate now. "You've met."

Of course they've met. Amelia has never met a stranger.

"Well, I mean, briefly. She was heading into OR one for a parathyroidectomy after I clipped an aneurysm this morning. I introduced myself. She's ni—oh." Amelia studies her sister. "Ohhh. She's not nice. We hate her. There's a dark-and-twisty-Mer story and she's the main villain."

"Not a dark-and-twisty-Mer story. A dark-and-twisty-Alex story. She's his ex-wife."

Amelia's eyes go wide. "Shut up."

"She was in our intern class, mine and Alex and Cristina's. She got cancer; melanoma with mets on the brain, Derek actually did the surgery. Then her best friend – our friend, George – he died. She lost her job... then she left, and then came back... and Alex told her to leave again and... she left..."

The expression on Amelia's face has gone from shocked to indignant to sympathetic in the minute it takes Meredith to tell the story. Hearing the story that way – so pared down, so divorced from all the misery that it created afterwards – makes Meredith briefly, almost, feel sympathy for Izzie.

Amelia opens her mouth to say something, but Meredith abruptly pushes back from her chair, scooping up her pile of papers. She already knows she must apologize to Izzie; she doesn't want to feel sorry for her too.

***

Izzie sings to herself when she scrubs in.

It's usually Fleetwood Mac, though she's been known to bust out Prince's "Private Joy" on a really good day. Sometimes she'll get an ancient nursery rhyme or children's song stuck in her head, but since she's been back in Seattle, it's been Nirvana and Temple of the Dog: songs stormy enough to match her mood.

She keeps telling herself that it doesn't matter. And in the scheme of things, it doesn't. So there was no warm welcome. So what? She's here to _work,_ exactly like she told Meredith. And if she had some secret part of her that hoped there would be a trip to Joe's, or a dinner with an old friend, well, now she knows that's not an option.

She'll finish what she came here to do, visit her mother like she promised, and get home to Kansas.

Izzie's finishing up under her nails when someone joins her at the scrub sink.

It's Meredith.

"Dr. Grey," she says. She's aiming her voice towards neutral but she can tell she misses the mark. She has no poker face to speak of.

Meredith Grey, on the other hand, is the queen of the poker face. "Dr. Stevens."

A beat of quiet passes between the women. When Meredith breaks it, Izzie is tempted to dig her fingers in her ears to make sure she heard it right. (She's not interested in scrubbing in twice, so she doesn't.)

"I'm sorry. For the other day. I shouldn't have... Anyway. I'm sorry."

They could hash it out: there are clearly hurt feelings, old and new, on both sides that need to be aired out.

But what Izzie wants, more than a chance to clear the air, is just a chance to spend a little time with this person from her past.

"You want to scrub in on this?" she says instead. She gestures with her chin into the prepped and gleaming OR. "Radical nephrectomy on a twenty-eight-year-old male... tumor's pretty much invaded the whole structure. I mean, if you're not busy..."

It's the right move. Mer's smile glimmers through. "I love nephrectomies."

***

Once upon a time, Alex would have left.

Then Jo would've been mad that he left, in addition to feeling... whatever she was feeling since Alex dropped his bombshell on her. Then they would've fought, and it would have brewed into a whole damn mess.

But Alex stays.

He calls Richard Webber and asks him to step in and put out any fires that come up at Pac North until he can get there. Then he makes two thermoses of coffee and waits.

Jo emerges from the shower, twisting her hair up into a complicated knot-thing on top of her head. She's clearly surprised to see him still here, but she silently accepts the thermos he hands to her.

"I'll drive you to work," he offers.

She answers softly, "Thanks."

"I'm not mad," she says a few minutes later when they're on their way to Seattle Grace.

A swell of relief moves into Alex's chest. He glances away from the road. "You're not?"

"I mean... I'm not throwing Izzie a 'Welcome Back!' party or anything. But..." She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "She's not here for _you._ "

"She's not," he agrees.

(There's something that stirs between his heart and his gut, something... old and rusty and complicated. He adds it to the list of things he can't explore it too deeply.)

"It's work," he continues. "It's surgery. Nothing else."

"It is what it is," Jo agrees. "I guess I wish you'd told me you'd called her? Like, I helped you reach out to Arizona, I knew it was something you were doing."

"I didn't want to make it into some big deal," he explains. "Because it isn't."

( _It isn't_ , he reminds that complicated feeling.)

"I get that. But... tell me next time, okay?" She rests her hand on his leg and squeezes gently.

"Next time I call my ex-wife?" he jokes, hoping to get a smile out of her.

She chuckles. "Sure."

They ride the rest of the way to Grey Sloan in silence, but Jo keeps her hand on his leg.

***

They work together well, which is a bit of surprise, given that Meredith's not sure they've ever scrubbed in together. Izzie is methodical, careful, but clearly skilled; the surgery shouldn't take more than two hours, start to finish.

They chat as they work. There's a melancholy moment when they speak about Lexie and Derek. (As if she hasn't gotten enough shocks regarding Derek's funeral this year, Izzie tells her she sent flowers and a card when she heard the news. Meredith believes her – it's even possible that she saw it and forgot.) Meredith tells her all about Cristina and her work at Klausman. Izzie tells her about her work and her home life ("You live on a _farm?"_ Meredith can't keep the incredulity out of her voice. "I hire help," Izzie assures her. "Like... _a ton_ of help.")

And then they talk about their kids.

"Twins!" Meredith is shocked.

"Yeah," Izzie laughs. "Now that they're older it's not so bad, but I spent the first three years of their lives positive that I wouldn't survive."

"How old are they? Where's..." Meredith stops herself from asking the bordering-rude question, turning her focus down to the tiny arterial graft before her.

"They're five." Izzie glances up; her eyes, which had been warm as she spoke about her life, seem far away for a moment. "Their dad is... not in the picture," she answers, intuiting the question Meredith hadn't finished. "So I have, like, an armada of babysitters."

"I couldn't survive without help," Meredith says lightly, turning the subject back to the good. "Derek's sister, I've heard you already met her, my sister..."

Izzie's head shoots up, eyes agog, and in a flash Meredith realizes the source of the confusion.

"Oh God, you don't know about Maggie."

She fills her in and by the end of the story Izzie has bright tears of joy in her eyes.

"That's so wonderful for you... to have that kind of support. It's worth it, doing things on my own – I wouldn't trade my kids for anything – but it's not easy."

"No," Meredith murmurs in agreement. "It's not."

They finish the surgery in companionable silence, and walk back to the scrub sink together. They wash their hands side by side, shoulders occasionally brushing.

When they're done, Izzie smiles at Meredith and sticks out a hand. Meredith smiles back and they shake.

"Dr. Stevens."

"Dr. Grey."

They leave the room, together.


	3. Season 16, Episode 11: I Am Trying to Break Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Meredith each have to process that Izzie is leaving Seattle.

_"I'd always thought that if I held you tightly_

_You'd always love me like you did back then_

_Then I fell asleep and the city kept blinking_

_What was I thinking when I let you back in?_

_I am trying to break your heart._

_I am trying to break your heart._

_But still I'd be lying if I said it wasn't easy,_

_I am trying to break your heart."_

***

Somewhere around 4 AM, Alex gives up trying to sleep.

He usually doesn't have any trouble sleeping, but it's been like this for the past week and a half: he hits the sheets exhausted, passes out hard for three or four hours, then jolts out of sleep before the birds even start singing. He's too tired to even be pissed off about it anymore.

He skips a shower – he's got an appy on a fourteen-year-old at 8 AM, so he'll just shower at the hospital afterwards. He rummages through their pantry and unearths a protein bar he's fairly certain is less than six months old, then pulls the covers up around Jo before he leaves.

He gets to his office in record time and starts going through the mountain of paperwork that never seems to shrink. And he starts on it with good intentions, he really does – but before he knows it, he finds himself staring out the window into the cloudy predawn, his mind a million miles away.

Or, more accurately, a few miles away at Grey Sloan.

Izzie's leaving; when they talked a few weeks ago, she told him about her plans. Today she'll transfer post-op care of her last patient over to the team at Grey Sloan and then go to visit her mother in Chehalis. She'll stay for a few days, then drive back to Seattle and fly home to Kansas.

She'll disappear again. And he's not a texter. He's not a "video chat once a month" kind of guy... if you can even be that kind of guy with your ex-wife. He doesn't think he can – he's never been friends, real friends, with an ex. He hasn't even seen her or talked to her since she's been in Seattle. So to think that they'd talk after she leaves... 

As far as he knows, Jo hasn't met her or talked to her or ran into her, and as much as he's wanted to, he hasn't asked Meredith anything about her. It's beginning to feel like she was never there to begin with, like her voice on the phone in his ear was his imagination and nothing more.

It sucks. 

For the first time in a couple months, he resents being at Pac North again. If he wasn't here, if he was back at Grey Sloan, back home where he was supposed to be, he could have at least _seen_ her.

In the quiet, alone in his office, he can admit to himself how much he wanted that. And it's not going to happen.

He pushes back from his desk so fast his chair tips precariously on its back wheels and stalks out of his office. His appy is waiting.

***

"Mer! Wait up!"

Meredith turns to see Jo jogging down the hall towards her. "How's it going?" Meredith asks when Jo reaches her. "I feel like I haven't seen you since I got back."

"I've had more surgeries this week than I have in the past month," Jo says with a grin. "I should've become an attending years ago. And now I'm _starving._ What're you up to right now? Do you want to grab some lunch? Or have you got plans?" she asks, gesturing to Meredith's blazer and jeans.

Meredith hesitates. "I, uh... I'm actually supposed to have lunch with Izzie."

"Oh."

"She's leaving today," Meredith goes on. "Do you... I mean... You haven't met her, have you? You could join us."

"God no!"

"You sure? I could... I don't know, call Maggie. She needs to get out of the house. Maybe make it a little less awkward if you wanted to see what Izzie's like."

Jo gives an uncomfortable laugh. "Truly, no. I don't want to meet her."

"You're a better person than I am," Meredith says. "Or maybe just have better self-preservation."

"I mean... I'm curious, sure, but it seems like a can of worms I just don't want to open." She stuffs her hands into the pockets of her lab coat and shrugs. "It might be different if Alex had seen her, but she honestly hasn't even come up since he told me she was here."

"Well, that's good, right?" Meredith asks.

"I'm definitely not complaining. Rain check on lunch?"

"Yeah, rain check."

Meredith goes to the lobby twenty minutes later and sees Izzie waiting for her. She feels glad to see her. They haven't spoken much since the nephrectomy, but it's more from circumstance than anything. Izzie's been busy with her patients, and since Meredith finally got back into the OR, she's been having a hard time pulling herself away. It was Izzie who suggested they go for lunch today, and since Meredith hasn't eaten lunch away from the hospital in almost a year, she took her up on it. Plus, it will be nice to get a chance to say goodbye.

They're both on the phone when they meet by the main doors – Meredith still thinks Maggie needs to get out of the house and has been trying to get in touch of her for twenty minutes, and Izzie is lit up in such a way Meredith feels certain she's talking to her children. They smile at each other as they approach, and Meredith hangs up as Izzie mouths, "Sorry."

Meredith shakes her head, then gestures with her chin toward the door; the rain that's been threatening all day seems to have blown away, so they can walk the ten blocks down to the Ethiopian place where she's made reservations.

"Okay sweetheart, I've got to go now," Izzie says into her phone as they walk out into the fresh air. "Have a wonderful time! Listen to Anh and be good, okay? Give Eli a big hug for me. I love you so much. Bye-bye." She slips her phone into the tote at her elbow and turns her smile to Meredith. "Hey. Sorry. My kids and their nanny got in yesterday afternoon – they're hitting the Space Needle today." She chuckles. "I spent almost twenty minutes in the hotel this morning explaining to my son why it's called a 'space' needle if it can't go to space."

"Oh fun," Meredith answers. They wait for the crosswalk to change and then almost get swiped by two bike messengers and a phalanx of Teslas soaring through the crosswalk after the change. "I didn't know they were coming."

Izzie nods and sighs a little. "The only way I can keep my mother from moving out of Chehalis and into my guest room is to let her see the kids as much as she wants. That usually means a two-week-long visit at my place in the summer and one holiday every other year. That was _after_ I whittled her down from every holiday. And when she found out I was coming out here for work..." Her face is rueful. "She gives me enough grief for living across the country. Paying to fly them and my nanny out to see her is more than worth it to buy myself a little peace."

"Yes, why did you choose Kansas?" Meredith asks. "It seems like... not a lot of people's first choice."

They chat the rest of the way to the restaurant, through the lagers their server recommends and into the first round of flavorful appetizers. Meredith, who hasn't had a girlfriend who wasn't also her sister or her coworker in almost a decade, feels relaxed and at ease and happy, grateful that whatever drama she had feared when hearing Izzie Stevens' name has stayed away.

Izzie must feel the same way, because at a lull in conversation, she leans back in her chair and gives Meredith a tentative smile. "I wanted to say thanks, by the way," she says.

Meredith smiles back. "For?"

Izzie shrugs. "This is just nice, and you didn't have to come. So thanks."

"I'm glad I did," Meredith says, and it's the whole truth. She's comfortable enough to ask the question that's been buzzing around in her head since she ran into Jo. "Have you gotten a chance to meet up with Alex?" she asks lightly.

"Ah." Izzie pretends to be engrossed with the label of her beer. "No, I..." She shakes her head a little and looks back up. The smile on her face is still there, but fixed and somehow artificial now. "I was so slammed, and I'm sure he is too – chief of surgery and everything."

"It's a lot of work," Meredith agrees.

"I thought maybe on the way back..." She shakes her head again, harder this time. "Maybe next time," she says, the note of cheer in her voice as false as her smile.

"Yeah... Maybe next time."

***

Alex is in a far better mood after he finishes surgery. Kyle, his appy patient, is a good kid, and when Alex sticks his head into post-op a while later, he's happy to see him already woozily chatting with his dad. Alex gives them both a thumbs up and heads for the attendings' lounge for a shower.

His good mood, the fact that the sun has come out, and the clarity he feels after a successful surgery make the decision for him: he's going to call Izzie. If all the bullshit from the past is really behind them, if they're good, the way they seemed on the phone, then it would be stupid to let her leave town without at least trying to say hello. He might not have been a "friends with exes" guy before, but he's different now.

It might not happen today, given that it's supposed to be her last day in town, but maybe when she's on her way home they can grab a drink or a bite. Making the decision lifts his mood even higher. He'll call her right after he cleans up.

"Dr. Karev!" An admin at the front desk waves him down when she spots him heading towards the elevators. "They were about to have me page you. There's a rig with an incoming pediatric TBI, five minutes out."

"They're bringing them here?" Alex demands. Pac North never gets first swing at pediatric cases; the only reason he got this appy today was because Kyle's insurance is through ACA and sometimes limits the network choices. "Why not Grey Sloan?"

"Patient is only five, and we're closest," the admin answers.

He swings away from the elevator and heads for the ER at a sprint.

He's gowned and gloved when the rig arrives, meets them at the bay. Two paramedics that he knows by sight, Ifemelu and Dom, spill out with the stretcher, rattling off pulse and O2 stats, none of which are good. There's a tiny inert form strapped to the stretcher: a boy, small for five, with a cap of dark hair matted with dark, ugly clumps of blood. Seated in the rig is another adult – a slender, slight Vietnamese woman with a face gone chalk white with terror – with a little girl sobbing in her arms.

"What happened?" he asks Ifemelu.

"Five-year-old got creamed by a bike courier at the Space Needle. Presented with vomiting at the scene before losing consciousness. He seized twice in the rig on the way over."

Alex glances down at the boy. The ugly lac causing all the bleeding is a problem, but he's more concerned with the telltale clear liquid gleaming at the little boy's ears.

"Wheel him into six and start the initial workup," he orders. An ER nurse follows the rig and Alex turns his attention to the dark-haired woman holding the crying little girl. "What's your son's name, ma'am?"

"I'm not his mother," she says, her voice trembling. "I'm the babysitter. His name is Eli."

She's inches away from breaking down, to say nothing of the hysterical little girl, so he keeps his voice low and soothing. "Okay, you need to call his parents right away. Do you have the right to authorize medical care? In case he needs surgery?"

"Yes." She's crying now. "Yes, I do, but can you please wait until his mother shows up? She's a doctor, a-a surgeon."

"I don't know yet. I'm going to go evaluate him right now. Okay?" He flags another ER nurse. "Sarah is going to take you into the waiting room. She's going to take down more information from you, and she'll let me know when the mother arrives, okay?"

The woman nods and shifts the little girl in her arms. The child is crying so hard that she's almost hyperventilating. Alex fights down a sudden and overwhelming desire to take the kid into his arms and stroke her hair until she calms down. "Sarah, get someone to bring down a popsicle from peds, okay?" he says. He looks at the babysitter and says, "I'll come talk with you in a few minutes," and then moves off to bed six to check on the little boy, Eli.

***

They're sipping espresso and waiting for their check with Izzie's phone buzzes in her bag. First once, then again. And again. And again.

"Sorry," Izzie murmurs as she reaches for it. "I hope it's not a patient – Oh." She rolls her eyes. "My babysitter. My kids must've gotten a hold of her phone." She swipes to answer and holds the phone up to her ear. "Hello, my little monster, what are you doing with—"

Meredith watches all the color drain from Izzie's cheeks and sits straight up. She has seen too many mothers make that face.

"Anh, I can't... Are you okay? Are the kids okay? What's—"

She closes her eyes and sways. Meredith reaches out and grabs Izzie's wrist, hard. Her eyes fly open again.

"A _seizure_?" Her voice cracks. "Are you... All right. Okay. Where are you? Okay. I'll be there as fast as I can.

"My kid," she says to Meredith as she hangs up, and her eyes crest with tears. "My son, he... there was some sort of accident, he hit his head. They took him to the emergency room and they think – oh God, they're saying it's a TBI and they're considering surgery. I have – I have to go, I have to get a car, I have to get there." She stands up and bolts out of the restaurant, past their stricken server, coming to deliver their check.

Meredith stands up and grabs her wallet out of her bag. "I'm sorry," she says, "but there's been an emergency." She pulls out her credit card and hands it to the waitress. "Please just put it on here. I'll send someone for the card later."

And she runs out to join Izzie on the street.

Izzie is crying openly now, fumbling with her phone as Meredith joins her at the curb. "I don't even—" She frantically jabs at the phone. "Do I call a cab? My sitter has my rental car, I don't..." She lifts her head and scans the street, eyes darting and frantic. "Where are all the _cabs?!"_

"There, there!" Meredith says, pointing to the far end of the block. A blue and yellow flat rate cab is at the corner. "Come on." She grabs Izzie's hand and the two of them race to the corner.

"Where did they take him?" Meredith asks as they skid to a halt at the cab's side. She bangs her palm against the window until the shocked driver unlocks the doors. "Which hospital? Are they back at Grey Sloan?"

The two of them spill into the cab. "Pacific North Hospital, please," Izzie cries to the driver, and the car peels out into traffic.

The relief that courses over Meredith is almost euphoric. "Iz," she says, and squeezes the other woman's arm, "it's okay. It's going to be fine. They're taking him to Alex."

But Izzie does not mirror Meredith's relief. If possible, her face goes even more pale.

"They can't," she gasps. "No, Mer, they can't – Alex can't – they need to go somewhere else."

"Izzie." Meredith squeezes her arm again and peers into her face. "Don't worry. Alex is – he's the best. He's the best pediatric surgeon there is. Your son couldn't be in better hands."

Izzie's hands fly up to cover her face. Her shoulders shake as she says something that Meredith doesn't catch.

"I can't hear you, Izzie. Say it again."

Izzie's hands move slowly to press over her lips. She finally pulls them away from her face and repeats herself.

"We can't let Alex treat Eli. You can't operate on your family."

***

Damn it. _Damn it!_

The kid's right pupil is blown; the left's on its way. He's still unconscious. Alex could do the lumbar puncture, but he knows what it will tell him: Eli's intracranial pressure is reaching a critical point. He needs to get him to CT and figure out where the pressure's building, and he needs to get him there now.

"Has the kid's mom shown up yet?" he shouts out into the pit.

There's no answer.

_This frickin' place!_

"Get him to CT," he snaps at his resident. "Front of the line. I want the results immediately, you hear me? Run!"

He storms through the pit towards the waiting room. He waits outside the doors and makes himself take a steadying breath. This woman is already scared enough; she isn't going to be able to make a decision if he scares her more.

She's seated close to the door, her face still shell-shocked. The little girl is much calmer and has streaks of purple popsicle on her cheeks; at least someone in this place can follow instructions.

Alex hunkers down on his haunches in front of them. Kid first.

"Hi," he says to the little girl. "I'm Dr. Alex. What's your name?"

She looks shyly at the sitter, who nods at her. "Alexis. I'm five," she adds, and holds up a sticky hand.

"Cool – we're name buddies." He points to the far end of the waiting room where there's a smattering of toys and books. "Can you go pick out a book for you and your babysitter? I need to talk to her about Eli."

She hops off her sitter's lap and scoots over to the toys.

Alex turns his attention to the woman. "What's your name, ma'am?"

Her voice shakes. "Anh."

"Okay, Anh. I've taken Eli to get a CT scan. I think there might be swelling in his brain, which is what caused the vomiting and the seizure. I'm going to get a better picture before I make a decision, but it's likely he's going to need surgery."

"His mother is on her way!" Anh insists. "Please, you have to wait until she gets here. I can't make this decision for her."

"Yes, you can. I'm here to help you make the decision that's best for Eli, okay? We can do this together."

She lurches forward and grabs his hands. The strength in her grip is surprising; he squeezes back. "Please. Please just wait until Dr. Stevens get here."

All of a sudden, his hands are blocks of ice.

"Dr. Stevens? Isobel Stevens?"

Her nod sends his stomach plummeting. He fights down his panic and tries to smile at Anh. "Don't worry yet, okay? Let's see what the scans say and we'll go from there."

He keeps it together as he rises to leave. Alexis has wandered back to her babysitter and shoots him a pearly, dimpled smile. He can't help himself; he ruffles her hair. He sees it now: her eyes are just like Izzie's.

The minute the door closes behind him he tears off towards CT.

_Eli is Izzie's son._


	4. Season 16, Episode 12: The Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izzie comes clean.

_"Welcome to the end of being alone inside your mind,_

_You're tethered to another and you're worried all the time._

_You always knew the melody but you never heard it rhyme."_

***

_Eli is Izzie's son_.

Alex Karev gets involved with his patients. It's unavoidable: it's peds. And when you grew up like Alex did, when things heavier than children should have to bear were the fabric of your childhood, it's even harder not to be consumed with a drive, a _need_ , to save and protect children in danger.

But this... This is different.

He knows he will never forgive himself if he does not save Izzie's child's life.

He has a stitch in his side by the time he arrives at CT. The resident, Marko, is waiting in the vestibule for the scans to come up on the screen. "He hasn't come to. Blood pressure is holding, but we've had a few dips," Marko informs him when he enters.

"He's bleeding into his brain. We gotta get those scans up." He closes his eyes and wrestles down the urge to slam his fist onto the top of the ancient machine before him.

"Dr. Karev! Here they come."

But before he can get a good look, he sees the little body inside the CT start to shake.

"He's seizing again. We're out of time."

Alex charges into CT; he barely remembers to grab an apron before he goes in. He slaps at the panel. The platform glacially extends out from within the eerie tunnel. An orderly appears at his side with a gurney. Together they lift Eli's body board onto the gurney.

"OR one, let's go! Marko, tell me what I'm looking for!" Alex roars.

"Bleeding into the fourth ventricle! It's blocking the CSF, that's what's causing the swelling."

Alex swears and charges towards the OR elevators. If the trauma alone had caused the swelling, he could do a craniectomy, remove a flap of bone and remove the pressure. But a bleed into the ventricle... the best, safest bet is to install an intraventricular catheter. There's less risk, but they're already strapped for time... and though he's done several over the years, Alex has never installed one on a kid as small as Eli. And if the cath doesn't do its job, it might be too late for the craniectomy to do any good..

More than ever, he desperately wishes he was at Grey Sloan.

It feels like it takes forever, but it's less than ten minutes later that he's scrubbed in and Eli's been prepped, face down in the OR. Alex's pulse hammers in his throat, but his hands are steady as he walks into the OR.

"Ten blade," he begins, extending his hand.

But before he can make another move, the door to his OR opens.

"Alex."

"Mer! What are – It doesn't matter. Go scrub and get in here. I want another set of eyes."

She stays where she is, outside the sterile field. "Alex," she repeats. "Put down the scalpel, please."

He glares at her. "Meredith, his brain is swelling. I don't have time for this. What's the matter with you?"

"You can't operate on Eli. Amelia is going to be here in a few minutes. If you give her privileges, she can take over for you."

"How did you know this was..." Realization breaks over him like a wave. "Izzie's here. She's with you. She doesn't want me to operate on him."

That complicated feeling comes snarling back.

"Alex—"

"Look, Mer." He takes a step back and levels a look at her. "She's scared. And... and maybe she doesn't trust me, I don't know. But whatever it is, you have to go tell her that it's going to be okay. We're running out of time."

Mer looks at him for a long time, the look she gets when she's making a decision. His pulse thunders harder in his throat. The temperature seems to drop around him. The complicated feeling grows spikes and barbs and thorns.

"You can't operate on Eli because he's your son."

For a minute he doesn't say anything.

"Get out of here, Mer. I'm not playing with you anymore." He turns back to Eli.

"Alex." Her voice catches, and he glances up to see the sheen of tears glazing her eyes. "Please just trust me."

He doesn't have time to answer before a movement in the scrub room catches his attention. He looks over to see Willa, his chief admin, and Amelia Shepherd moving toward the scrub sink. Amelia ignores him and immediately starts scrubbing in. Willa looks at him, bewildered, and presses the com button.

"Dr. Karev! Did you want me to authorize Dr. Shepherd?"

He swings his gaze to Meredith again. She holds his eyes with hers. She is always the steadiest person in the room.

He drops the scalpel onto the tray and takes a step back. When Amelia is done scrubbing in, she charges into the room.

"He needs a ventriculostomy. Fourth ventricle," he says. His voice sounds miles and miles away.

"I've got this. I promise," she answers. His staff gloves her. Someone removes his headlamp.

He stumbles from the OR. Meredith catches his elbow as he passes her; her hands are firm and solid on his body, which feels like it's dissolving. She walks him out into the hall.

***

Izzie feels him come into the room before she sees him.

It was always this way, before: like their bodies resonated on the same frequency. Like she's a struck note, and he makes the chord.

She looks up to see him waiting in the doorway, sees Meredith a step behind him. Her heartbeat leaps. He's wrenched his scrub cap off to reveal his hair, now streaked with wiry gray. His jaw is set and his eyes are burning and wild as he takes in her face.

He looks like her daughter. He looks like a dream.

"Baby, sit with Anh."

Alexis cries out in protest, but Izzie peels her away from her body and gently hands her to Anh. She stands and, feeling like she's moving through a stream, walks towards Alex Karev.

He holds the door for her and she follows him out.

Meredith murmurs something about going back to the OR. She gently squeezes Izzie's arm; she and Alex exchange a long and loaded look. Izzie feels the years she's been gone more acutely in that moment than she ever has before.

Then Meredith leaves, and she and Alex are alone together.

The hospital noises around them fade from her ears. All she can sense is Alex: his scent and his hands and the confusion and fury burning in his face.

He looks at her for an explosive moment, before he jolts his whole body away from her. He rakes his hands hard over his hair and lets out a shaking breath. His shoulders jerk once. Twice.

When he finally turns back to her, the only thing on his face is grief.

"How?"

His voice cracks. It brings the tears flooding back.

"The—" She clears her throat; her voice isn't particularly steady either. "The embryos. From... from when I was sick."

"You didn't – It never occurred to you to—" He gulps a breath. "You didn't _call_ me?"

"Please," she whispers. "Please don't be—"

But he stalks away from her before she can finish.

***

He should go to his office.

He should go back to Izzie.

He should go literally anywhere except where he's going.

He goes to OR one and waits.

He avoids the scrub room; he's not going to give Shepherd the yips by staring at her while she's centimeters into a kid's brain – _his kid's brain –_ but he can't let himself be much farther away from Eli than the other side of this wall.

Rage, volcanic, rises up from his chest. It burns up his throat and his veins and his brain stem until he is nothing but fury. He has a kid, he has _two kids_ that he never knew about _._ With Izzie.

For so long she's been his past: safe, silent, frozen in memory. But now...

Alex doesn't believe in God at all, though he's never cared enough about the concept to call himself an atheist. So whoever he starts to talk to when he starts to talk, it's not God.

_That's my son in there. My SON._

_Don't let me lose him._

_Don't let me lose him before I even get to know him._

Meredith finds him slumped down by the OR wall some time later.

"Alex." She kneels and covers his clasped hands with her own. "Amelia's done. She's just wrapping up."

He looks up at her through bleary eyes.

"It went well. He did great. The swelling reduced immediately; his ICP is still elevated but it's much lower. Amelia doesn't think they'll need to do a craniectomy or anything."

Every bit of fury in him siphons away. "Is he awake yet?"

Meredith shakes her head and settles down to sit next to him against the wall. "Not yet."

They're quiet for a few minutes.

"He's mine," Alex says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know."

"What do I do?" He passes a shaky hand over his face. "What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know."

Another beat of quiet.

"You have to talk to Jo," Meredith says.

"I have to talk to Izzie," he counters, and the anger flickers back to life. He slams his palm against the floor. "What the hell am I supposed to _do?"_

She doesn't answer.

They sit together for a long time.

***

Eli hasn't woken up yet.

Dr. Shepherd – Derek's sister, who has his confidence and his blue eyes, which rattles Izzie a little bit – seems certain that all he needs is rest. "It was a big busy day for his brain," she reminds Izzie. "Sleep is best for him right now."

She gets them set up in a patient room, including a cot for Alexis and Izzie, and promises to have the Pacific North staff update her hourly. Izzie has to bite her lip to keep from crying when Dr. Shepherd presses her hand and tells her to get some rest. She's forgotten, if she ever truly understood, how much harder it is to be on the receiving side of medical care.

After they're alone, Anh brings the three of them dinner from the cafeteria. Alexis is a great fan of the mac and cheese; Izzie pokes at her salad and spends most of her time keeping her daughter cheerful. After dinner, Izzie sends Anh back to the hotel. She protests tearfully at first until Izzie folds her into a hug.

"You need some rest," she reminds Anh.

" _You_ need some rest," Anh says.

"I'll rest. Best seat in the house." She pats the cot where Alexis is already nodding off. The nurse has provided them with more blankets than they can possibly use and her daughter has used them to make a nest. "Go back to the hotel. I'll call you if anything happens."

"Do you want me to bring Alexis with me?" Anh asks.

"No," Izzie says sharply. Then, "No," more gently. She wants her daughter at her side.

They hug again, and soon she and Alexis are alone.

The hours drag by. She holds her son's hand and kisses his sweet face and she waits.

She's nodding off in a chair somewhere past midnight when she realizes they're no longer alone in their room.

Alex is at their son's side, gently checking his pulse. She watches him silently for a few moments – flipping through the chart, frowning over an annotation – before she speaks.

"I had to stop hating you first."

He jumps at the sound of her voice, then shoots her an unreadable look. He doesn't reply.

She pushes up from the chair and leans towards him, keeping her voice low to keep from waking Alexis. "Before I could even think about using the embryos. I had to... I couldn't hate you and have our children. And I hated you for a long time."

"I hated you back," he answers.

Izzie smiles slightly. She knows that.

"I wasn't ready for kids anyway," she goes on. "So I worked. I couldn't stay in Washington with all the history – with George and you and everything. I transferred to Northwestern and I took my fellowship and I did everything I could not to think about everyone here. But it... it wasn't enough."

She stops for a moment, reaching out to cautiously stroke Eli's hair. "I was single – who has time to date when you're working sixty-hour weeks – but I thought I could do IVF. But when they did my workup..." She shakes her head, gives a rueful shrug. "My eggs were shot. That IL2 chemo was no joke, I guess. Anyway, that option was out.

"I thought about adoption. I knew how beautiful it can be, but in the end... I kept thinking about the embryos, about how they were just... out there, waiting."

She looks up into Alex's face. They study each other, take in the years on the other's face. "I didn't hate you anymore," she says.

"But you didn't call me. You didn't think to—"

"Yes, I did, Alex. I did think." Her voice crescendos. "I thought about it so much that I nearly drove myself crazy. What if I asked you and you said no? What if I called you and you laughed and told me you didn't care what I did with them? What if they didn't mean anything to you? What if—"

"I wouldn't—"

"What if you let me use them because you pitied me, even though you didn't want me to, and I ended up ruining your life?!"

Izzie's voice rings through the room. Alex, eyes smoldering, stays silent.

"I couldn't... I didn't want to be something you regretted," she finishes softly. "Not again. In the end I decided that because it had been so long, and because you signed over the rights to them, that I didn't need to ask permission. That you would be better not knowing. That it would be... simpler this way."

The fire behind Alex's eyes flickers out. He walks over to the cot and stands there, looking down at his daughter. He tenderly passes a hand over her hair. After a moment he walks back to Eli's bed, reaches down to trace a finger over Eli's cheeks.

"They're beautiful," he says softly. He looks up again and the only thing left in his gaze is warmth. "They're really beautiful."

Somehow Izzie is crying, though when it started, she couldn't say.

"I know," is all she can say.

He reaches out his palm to her. It's an invitation and a question.

She slips her hand into his.


	5. Season 16, Episode 13: Anthem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izzie and Alex's secret is out.

_"Ring the bells that still can ring_

_Forget your perfect offering._

_There is a crack in everything_

_That's how the light gets in."_

* * *

Eli wakes up fourteen hours after his surgery, and two hours after that he and his sister are the stars of the pediatric ICU. Alex has never seen so many cups of pudding amass in so short a time; every nurse on the floor seems to deliver one that day. By ten AM both five-year-olds' faces are masked in chocolate.

"They're bad enough apart," Izzie tells Alex with a laugh. She hasn't stopped smiling since their son woke up. "But when they're together, no one can resist them."

"I can see that," he says.

He really can: they are charming as can be. Alexis talks as fast as her mother, and gestures with her hands in a way he finds comical on a kindergartner. Eli is quieter than she is and his eyes are always a-twinkle, even when he complains that his head hurts. He's got a mild fever still, and when they report out to Shepherd, she recommends he stay under observation for a day or two.

In spite of his worry about Eli, Alex gets a little thrill in his chest when he hears this.

He can't stop watching them. The two of them clearly adore their mother, and Izzie lights up like an aurora when they speak. They are a happy unit of three, complemented by Anh, who is wrapped around the kids' little fingers like a doting grandmother.

Alex has just as much work as he ever does, but he finds himself drifting down to the pediatric ICU several times during the morning: he just can't keep himself away from them. Watching them with Izzie, knowing that they're his, feels like wandering through a waking dream. All he wants to do is drink up their every word and gesture, like he's been dying of thirst this whole time without them and never knew it.

He tries to keep himself at arm's length at first. He doesn't really know how the kids will react to this stranger hanging around, especially since Alexis still only knows him as the doctor from the scary first day at the hospital. Izzie manages to extract herself from them at some point and comes out to find him where he's reviewing charts at the nurse's station.

"Hey," she greets him, beaming.

"Hey yourself," he says, and for a minute they just smile at each other, a little awkward but too happy to let it get in the way.

"You should—" She falters. Alex closes his chart, cocks his head at her and waits as she works out whatever she wants to say in her head. "Do you want me to tell them who you are?" she finally asks softly.

He hesitates and Izzie's cheeks burn red. "They know they have a father. I mean to say, they know everyone has a father. They know about – about sperm and eggs, even though Eli thinks it's like chicken eggs... So they know about you _in theory,_ but, you know, they're five." He still doesn't speak, and she rushes to add, "I mean... I don't have to. We can just – I just thought you might want—"

"Iz, stop." He glances back into Eli's room. The twins are snuggled up on the bed, playing some game on an iPad that has them both doubled over in hysterical giggles. "I want them to know who I am. Of course I do. I don't want to be a stranger to them anymore."

Her face is soft. "I don't want you to be a stranger either."

"But... I really need to talk to my wife, first."

They haven't really talked about Jo much at all. When they first connected on the phone, Alex told Izzie that he was married and that his wife was a general surgery fellow at Grey Sloan, but other than that, they haven't had much of a chance to discuss her. And though Alex knows down to his bones that he wants nothing more than for Eli and Alexis to be in his life, he also knows that there is no way he can make that kind of decision with Jo in the dark.

Izzie closes her eyes. "Oh my God. Of course. I should have realized. Of course you should talk to her. I'm sorry. I'm an idiot."

"Shut up," he tells her gently.

She rolls her eyes, exasperated, and they both laugh. "I—" She blows out a breath and gives a frazzled smile. "I will. This is... really new to me."

"Hey, me too."

"Why don't you... I don't know, eat lunch with us. We don't have to talk about who you are. We can wait until after you talk to your wife."

"Yeah. Definitely. But I'm ordering a pizza. I've worked here long enough that I know you should not eat in the cafeteria more than two days in a row."

She laughs again. God, he never got over her laugh.

* * *

But as resolute as he feels about telling Jo about what's going on, he parks his car at the loft that night feeling like he's about to puke. He hasn't spoken much to her since everything went down except for a few text messages checking in (he ended up staying at the hospital so late he had to tell her to catch an Uber home that night) and he feels strangely... guilty, almost? He tries to shake it off, but the feeling lingers as he climbs the stairs.

Jo's curled up on their couch when he walks in. "Hey!" She greets him with a grin and lifts her face for a kiss. "Rough couple of days?" she asks sympathetically. "I heard Shepherd had to come help you with a trauma patient. Everything okay?"

Alex tries to keep his emotions off his face and takes a minute to rummage around in their fridge. Damn; of _course_ she'd know that Shepherd had to come out to Pac North for an emergency. He feels like an idiot for not recognizing that at first.

Looks like they're doing this sooner rather than later.

He notices he's been standing in front of the empty fridge for a full minute, staring at nothing, and closes the door. Not like he could eat anyway. "Yeah, it uh... it worked out. The kid's awake and doesn't seem to have any deficiencies so far. He's running a mild fever, so Shepherd wants me to keep him for observation until it stabilizes."

"I'm glad it went well." She smiles at him again and pats the couch for him to join her.

He stays standing. "Jo... I've got to tell you something.

"The kid I was working on... It was Izzie's kid. Her son, Eli..."

Surprise blooms over her face.

"...and it turns out he's mine."

* * *

They're all snuggled up in Eli's hospital bed, reading one of the umpteen _Elephant and Piggie_ books Alexis insisted on bringing to Washington. Anh is out in the hall, trying to get her flight switched; she's scheduled to fly out tomorrow, since the original plan had Izzie and the kids in Chehalis by that point, but she doesn't want to leave them yet. Izzie's doing her best to be a mother and not a doctor, but she's distracted by Eli's fever which has yet to subside.

It seems she's not the only one.

"Hi there, Eli!"

They all look up to see Amelia Shepherd enter the room.

"I'm Dr. Shepherd. I helped Dr. Alex with your surgery yesterday," Shepherd explains.

"Hi," Eli choruses, looking shy.

"We got _pizza_ for lunch," Alexis chimes in. "Dr. Alex brought it. _And_ we got to eat all the pudding."

"Wow!" Dr. Shepherd marvels. She rubs her pregnant belly. "I hope it was the chocolate kind."

Izzie chuckles. "They're getting the royal treatment, for sure." She swings her legs over the side of the bed and walks over to shake Dr. Shepherd's hand.

"Eli, I want to look at your stitches and your new gear really quick. Can I do that?"

"'Kay," he says reluctantly.

Shepherd walks over and gives him a quick, gentle once over. She tests his pupils, has him follow her finger with his eyes. She combs her fingers over the ugly black stitches – "my Frankenstein stitches!" Eli has cheerfully dubbed them – and gently probes the site of the ventriculostomy. She tells Eli he's a superstar, gives him and Alexis each a high five, then asks, "Can I borrow your mom for just a minute?"

Izzie waits for her to grab Eli's chart, then follows Shepherd out into the hall.

"You're concerned about his fever," Izzie says when they're in the hall.

Shepherd puts her hands in her pockets and rocks on her heels. "I'm not concerned yet, but I would certainly be happier if it went down. The other signs are good: his pupils are beautifully responsive, he traces well, he's verbal and seems calm and happy."

Izzie smiles. "That's him."

"The fever could be a number of things. Since neither the laceration nor the ventriculostomy site are showing signs of infection, I want to be optimistic, but I won't be comfortable releasing him until the fever goes down for 24 hours." She muses for a minute, then adds, "And I'd really like him to be where I could monitor him more closely. If any of those signs change, I'm going to want to do a lumbar puncture to measure his ICP, and I would want to do that myself rather than depend on someone else."

Izzie hesitates. The idea of bringing Alex's surprise family onto his home turf – not to mention the place where his wife works – feels like it might be a misstep.

"All of that makes sense," she says to Shepherd, "only... Do we need to be at Grey Sloan?" When she sees the doctor's look of concern, she hastens to say, "I'm certain you're the best, it's not that I don't want your care for Eli... it's just that the situation is... delicate."

Understanding comes over Shepherd's face. "His surname is Stevens," she reminds Izzie gently. "Except for you, me, Mer, and Alex, no one will know the situation. We'll be as discreet as possible."

Izzie nods. Biting her lip, she glances back into Eli's room. "I'd want to be in the ambulance with him during the transfer, but I'm not sure my daughter will handle that well at all, given the... circumstances of the last time."

Shepherd smiles. "I can call in a favor. I know an excellent EMT at our local fire station." She pulls her mobile phone out from her lab coat pocket. "Have you gotten to meet Bailey's husband?"

* * *

"How does this happen?!" Jo has been storming up and down the loft for the better part of an hour. She's close to tears in anger and bewilderment. "Who does this to someone?"

Alex rubs a hand over his brow, hard. "She didn't _do_ something to me," he says for what feels like the tenth time. He wants to be patient – his wife deserves his patience, after news like this – but they've been at this for so long that he's wearing down. "I know, it's kind of screwed up and it's definitely weird, but... this is a good thing, Jo."

"How are you not furious about this?" she demands. She throws herself back down next to him. "She used embryos from _ten years ago_ to have children, hid them from you, and just... shows back up. How are you not screaming right now?"

"I signed my legal rights away," Alex repeats. "I never thought she would use them. Hell, _she_ never thought she would use them. It just became the only option. And why would she tell me? She doesn't want anything from me, she never did. And yeah, I felt mad at first... but..." He strives to say precisely what has been brewing in his heart over the past two days. "But now I know them, and I can't be mad at anything that brought them into the world. They're my _kids,_ Jo."

Jo falls quiet; the anger holding her up has faded away and she seems small and drawn. He reaches out and grabs her hand. "They're my kids," he repeats.

She sighs. "So what does this mean?" she asks in a low voice. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," he answers. It's the question that's been rattling through his mind since he learned the truth. "I only know that I want to be in their lives. I don't want them to..."

He can't finish the thought: _I don't want them to grow up like me._

"I want to meet her," Jo says firmly. He jerks his head up to look at her. "And the kids, obviously, but... if we're going to do this – _whatever_ we end up doing – we need to talk to her and figure it out."

He nods. "Okay. Yeah. We can do that."

He gets a page, the buzzing sound echoing through the loft. He glances at Jo, who nods. He reaches for his phone and scans the message with a stifled curse. "Eli's fever isn't going away. Shepherd wants to transfer him back to Grey Sloan for observation."

"Okay." Jo squares herself up. "We can see her tomorrow then. I'll stop in the lab and then we can go up." She lets go of his hands. "I'm going to bed. You coming?"

"In a few."

He waits until she's in the bathroom before he picks up his phone again.

He texts Izzie.

_Hey: Shepherd told me you're at Grey Sloan. Everyone get settled okay?_

Her answer is almost instantaneous.

_I was just going to text you. Yes, we're settled. Meredith brought me what she says is the best cot._

Her next text is a picture of the kids, curled up on either side of Eli's bed like parentheses. He smiles at this.

 _Good. I'll take the morning off and come see you tomorrow_.

 _Good,_ she replies, and he feels his heart lift. _See you then._

* * *

Walking into Grey Sloan the next morning feels like walking onto a battlefield. Jo looks fantastic, but she's wearing eyeliner like it's warpaint.

Bailey does a double take when they run into each other in the hall. "I was just about to call you," she says, a measure of caution in her voice. "I had a transfer from your hospital that I... thought we should discuss." She glances surreptitiously at Jo.

"She knows," Alex says.

"How do _you_ know?" Jo asks with a frown.

"I am Chief Bailey – I know everything," Bailey replies, and Alex can't help but smile a little. "Karev – er, Alex – Tom Koracick also asked me to arrange a meeting with you."

"Koracick? Why?" he asks.

"I imagine that you will find that out once you meet with him," she replies, crossing her arms over her chest. "Since you're here today, can I assume that you're free?"

"We have... to take care of something," Alex says. "With my transfer patient."

Bailey checks her watch. "They're rounding now; we can be done in 15 minutes."

Alex glances at Jo, who shrugs her acquiescence. He can tell she's not particularly in a rush to meet Izzie. "Sure, let's just... be fast."

Koracick is already as smug and self-satisfied as they come, but this "chief of chiefs" crap has turned the whole thing up to eleven. He shakes Alex's hand and claps him on the elbow like they're old friends. From the corner of his eye, he sees Bailey roll her eyes.

"Chief Karev! If there's one thing I love it's a prompt response." He gestures for him to have a seat, then looks over at Jo. "Though I didn't expect you to come bringing a whole entourage. Dr. Karev," he greets her.

"What is it I can do for you, Tom?" Alex asks, not bothering to correct his assumption about why he's there.

"Ah, well. You might have heard from some of your... internal contacts—" He nods here at Jo, who looks at Alex and shakes her head in confusion "—that the Catherine Fox foundation is looking into acquiring Pacific North. In fact..." Here Koracick taps at a few keys on his computer and squints at the screen. "Our courier should be delivering our offer to your new board any time now."

Alex keeps his face neutral, but the news leaves him reeling.

"As a result we are looking to refresh the staff at Pacific North, while also incorporating some of the more desirable staff into Grey Sloan." Koracick leans back in his chair and grins at Alex. "We're prepared to offer you the Chief of Peds position at a pay increase. Co-chief," he hastens to add. "Co-chief of Peds. I'm sure you've also heard about our recent peds hire of Cormac Hayes."

Koracick shuffles the papers on his desk. His demeanor shifts; he's clearly moving into negotiation mode. "Now, I understand some might feel going from chief of surgery to a department chief is a downgrade... particularly given the co-chief situation. But I think you'll come to find that working at Grey Sloan versus other locations will—"

"I'll do it."

Bailey and Jo's heads swivel to face him, identical shock written over their expressions. "Are you sure?" Jo asks him, incredulous. She knows he's no fan of Koracick, and that he had high hopes for revamping the system at Pac North. "Don't you want to, I don't know, discuss it with your wife first?"

"Excellent!" Koracick declares, clapping his hands. "Perfect. I'll start drawing up the agreement—"

"I have a condition," Alex interrupts.

Everyone in the room goes silent.

"You have to offer the oncologist Dr. Stevens a position. The best offer you can make her. Anything she wants, you have to give her."


	6. Season 16, Episode 14: It's Over, Isn't It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex wants Izzie and the kids to move to Seattle, but the decision isn't as simple as all that.

_"It's over, isn't it?_

_Isn't it?_

_Isn't it over?_

_It's over, isn't it?_

_Isn't it?_

_Isn't it over?_

_You won and she chose you and she loved you and she's gone._

_It's over, isn't it?_

_Why can't I move on?"_

* * *

"I don't even know what to say to you right now."

Alex hastily closes the supply closet door behind him before Jo can really let loose. She's been spitting her anger at him since they left Koracick's office, her face is screwed up in a mask of fury. Her voice has been getting steadily louder the farther away they get, and so finally Alex finally puts his hand on her back and steers her into the closet where she can call him an idiot in privacy.

She stalks to the back of the closet and spins back to face him, waves of her hair snapping around her face. "What were you thinking? Were you even thinking? You didn't take two seconds to even _consider_ what I—"

"How are you mad about this?" he snaps back.

" _How am I mad?!"_ She gapes at him, incredulous.

"How is this not the best solution?! I want to be in those kids' lives, Jo. I can't be some face they see once a year! How am I supposed to do that if they live in the middle of nowhere freakin' Kansas?"

"Don't act like I'm the one being irrational here. And besides that, Alex, I'm not mad about the solution, I'm mad that you just made a huge life decision without consulting your _wife."_

"Jo, I had to take the opportunity. Right then, while the offer was on the table. I couldn't accept Koracick's deal and then waste time discussing the situation. That was my one shot! My one shot to make it so Izzie would want to move back! I had to take it! How do you not get this?"

She's looking at him like she's never seen him before. "Alex, you have _no idea_ if Izzie will agree to this. She hasn't made any effort to let you into those kids' lives before – what makes you think she's going to uproot her entire life to do it now?"

"She will," Alex says, but the certainty he felt in Koracick's office has suddenly dissipated. "We've talked about it. She knows I want to be involved. She wants me to as well."

Jo shakes her head. "Alex, you have no idea if you're both on the same page. Being involved could mean anything! You cannot expect her to just be completely fine with this unilateral decision you made for her."

A visceral wave of panic moves up through Alex's solar plexus. "You don't know what you're talking about," is all he can manage to say.

"Do you?!" she counters.

He yanks the door open and storms out without an answer.

* * *

"Dr. Alex!" Alexis shouts joyfully.

Izzie glances up from the coloring book she and the kids are working on to see Alex in the doorway. She starts to smile at him but comes up short. He's smiling at Alexis and leaning over to inspect her art, but there's something about his eyes as he looks at the kids, something almost fearful.

Something happened.

"Everything okay?" she asks him, sotto voce.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" He glances around the room. "Where's Anh?"

"At the airport," Izzie answers. "She wanted to switch her flight, but it was going to be exorbitant, and in the end, I told her to head home. Her grandson's birthday is this weekend, and there's no need for her to just sit around in the hospital with us." She gently extracts Eli from under her arm, taking care not to brush the stoma site on the back of his head. "Okay kiddos, I'm going to step out and talk with your – Dr. Alex, okay? Can you keep coloring? We'll be right outside."

She follows Alex, thinking he'll stop right outside the door, but he walks ahead of her briskly, and leads her into a stairwell. She glances over her shoulder before she follows him in.

"Did you mean what you said?" he asks when she's face-to-face with him. That fear is wild on his face now.

"About?" she asks, bewildered.

"About me not being a stranger. About me being in their lives. Did you mean that?"

"Of course I did. What is this about?"

"Because I meant that, Iz," he charges on. "I'd do anything to make that happen. I'm their father – I deserve to be in their life. They deserve a father too. I'm not mad, you know, I get why you haven't reached out to me before, but I know them now. I don't want to lose that."

"Alex." She takes a step towards him and reaches a hand out to touch his wrist – but at the last second, she pulls back. He's like Eli when he's upset, she remembers; if she touches him before he's ready, he'll throw off sparks. "I know that. You're not going to lose that. We're going to work it out, okay?"

His body relaxes. "Okay."

She searches his face. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm just glad you said that."

He heads out of the stairway back towards Eli's room. Izzie, still confused, follows him, nearly running into his back when he stops short in the doorway.

Amelia Shepherd is in the room, chatting warmly with Izzie's children, and there is a spry, energetic older gentleman with her. Dr. Shepherd turns to smile at them, but the other man springs forward before anyone can say a word.

"Dr. Stevens! Dr. Tom Koracick, I'm the Chief Medical Officer of the Catherine Fox Foundation."

Alex shifts so Izzie can enter the room. She automatically responds to his smile as she and Tom Koracick shake hands. "Glad to meet you."

"I got a chance to observe your adrenalectomy a few weeks ago," Koracick continues. "Beautiful work. I trust the patient's recovery is going smoothly?"

"You're very kind. And yes, she's doing very well. She went home four days post-op, no complications."

"Glad to hear it," he answers. "Dr. Karev was singing me your praises this morning as well." She watches him give Alex an appraising look, an expression of dawning comprehension and compassion coming over his clever face. "I'm wondering if I could invite you down to my office for a cup of coffee. I'd love to talk to you about some potential for further partnership for you here at Grey Sloan."

"Oh, um..." She shakes her head, a little surprised. "I mean, thank you, I'd love that... but as you can see—" She gestures to Eli "—I'm presently in parent mode, not work mode."

Alex speaks up hastily. "I can stay with them for a bit. I think it's high time for Eli and Alexis to take a wheelchair ride down the hall and see where we keep the popsicles."

The kids set up a cheer so raucous that everyone in the room can't help but laugh. Izzie laughs too, but tries to catch Alex's gaze, hoping to get some sort of telepathic indication of what's going on. He is clearly avoiding her eyes.

"Wonderful. Dr. Stevens?" Koracick offers.

Izzie hesitates, then smiles and accepts. The feeling of trepidation burrows deeper into her chest.

* * *

Alex Karev isn't normally an optimist, but he might become one now. The buoyant, hopeful feeling spreading through his chest and extremities after thirty minutes with his children is addictive.

It's going to work out; he believes this all the way to his core. Izzie looked thoughtful when she returned. She smiled as the kids told her all about their wheelchair adventures – they insisted on riding together in the same chair, and they're so little that it was easy to accommodate – and didn't seem like she was about to ream him for making plans about her future without her consult.

They're going to be a family: him and Jo, Izzie and their kids. This is going to work.

He's feeling so positive, so certain, that nothing could possibly bring him down – not even the fight he's almost certainly about to have with his wife.

She's alone in the attendings' lounge, a series of scans on the table before her. When she looks up and sees him, she offers a small smile; she seems calmer, but still hesitant.

"Hey." He takes a seat across from her.

"Hey."

"Koracick talked to Izzie."

Jo raises her eyebrows, waits for him to continue.

"I think she's going to take him up on the offer."

"Okay." Her face is still neutral. "What makes you think that?"

He shrugs easily. "I just have a really good feeling. Besides, who wouldn't want to work here?" He smiles, hoping to coax her into his good mood.

Jo studies him and doesn't reply.

He reaches over to hold her hand. "Look. You were right. I – I should have talked to you before I said anything to Koracick. That wasn't... It wasn't fair to you. The kids and Izzie are going to be in your life too. I shouldn't have left you out of that conversation."

She doesn't smile, but she does squeeze his hand. "You know I want whatever's best for you," she says. "I want what you want. But I think you might be... counting your chickens before they hatch."

"I know you're just looking out for me." He leans forward and gives her a soft kiss. "But it's all going to be okay. I know it is."

There comes a tentative knock on the lounge door before she can answer. The door open and Izzie hesitantly walks in.

"Alex, can we – Oh!" One hand flies to her face. She gives a cautious smile. "I'm sorry to interrupt you. Hi." She takes a step forward and offers Jo her hand. "Izzie Stevens."

Jo rises; Alex follows suit. The smile she gives is perfectly friendly. Only Alex, who knows her so intimately, can read the challenge under it. "Jo Karev," she answers.

Alex watches as the only two women he's ever loved shake hands.

"I'm glad to finally meet you," Izzie is saying. "Alex had such wonderful things to say about you."

He gives her a grateful look, even though he knows that their discussions about Jo have been bare-bones at best.

"Thank you," Jo says, though she doesn't return the compliment. "Alex was just telling me about your meeting with Tom Koracick."

The smile fades from Izzie's face. "Yes, he... he offered me a job." She watches Alex's face carefully. "But I'm guessing you knew that."

"So what's your new title?" Alex asks eagerly. "And the pay, I hope he made it good. I should've told you to grab Mer and compare salaries before you said yes, I know she'd—"

"I didn't say yes, Alex."

The floor pitches under Alex's feet.

"I mean, I didn't say no," she adds. High flames of color have come up in her cheeks. "I... I told him I had to think about it."

Alex can feel Jo's gaze silently slide over to him. "Why?" he asks, baffled. "Wasn't it a good offer?"

"It's a fantastic offer. But I just... I can't say yes just now."

"This is one of the best hospitals in the country," Alex says. "You'd have everything you could want. What's stopping you?"

Izzie looks at him like he's crazy. "I have a life in Kansas, Alex," she answers. "My children have lives there. They have bedrooms and friends and amazing teachers. We have chickens! We can't just leave."

"They can have those things here!" Alex insists.

"My farm... Alex, it's their home! It's the only home they've ever known. I can't just decide to do that on a whim!" Her voice is getting louder to match his. "I need just... a second to think and consider and plan!"

"You said I could be in their lives. You lied to me."

Izzie looks like he's slapped her. "You can be in their lives, Alex! This isn't the stone age. There are planes and phones and email and a million other ways people can stay in touch."

"That's not enough," he shouts. "I want to be their dad, Izzie! I want to see them and touch them and _be with them._ Nothing else is going to be enough for me."

Anger and empathy and pain are warring all over Izzie's face as they stare each other down. Jo tentatively reaches out for Alex's hand, but he jerks it away.

The two women watch him as he stalks out of the room.

* * *

Alex stays away all day.

Izzie briefly considers that he's gone home with his wife, or back to Pacific North, but her instincts tell her otherwise. So that night, after the kids are asleep, she tries to call him.

No answer.

She texts: _I need to talk to you._

No answer.

She thinks for five minutes, then ten. She's about to call again when she has a sudden, blinding sense of clarity.

She tucks the children in, lets the nurse know she has to step out, and heads down to the tunnels.

Her footsteps echo as she slowly makes her way through the dark, familiar hall; her heart and mind flood with memories of being an intern, of George and his laugh, of Cristina and Meredith surrounded by coffee cups and textbooks, of Alex's shoulder pressed against hers as they talked through the precious hours they should have spent sleeping. She remembers how it felt to be part of a team, part of a family.

She loves her life. She loves her children. She loves who she has grown to become. But sometimes she misses that time of her life so much it steals her breath.

He's there. Of course he is. He's flat on his back on a gurney, staring unseeing up at the ceiling. His face is stormy and complicated, and it makes a dark, unacknowledged part of her heart thrum: she's never met a man with as many surprises and facets as Alex Karev. She wonders if he still smells like smoky vanilla and birch bark, and suddenly she wants nothing more than to climb up next to him and tuck herself under his arm, to swing her legs over his and lay on top of him while their heartbeats sync up. It surprises her, the depth of this want, but this is absolutely not the time to acknowledge it. She satisfies herself with sitting on the edge of the gurney, her back pressed against his side.

"Alex."

"You going to tell me I'm an idiot too? Because I've been telling myself that all day."

She looks sharply down into his face. "You're not an idiot. It's not idiotic to want to be a father to your children."

He rolls his eyes at her and she repeats, her voice a touch louder than she'd intended, "It's _not."_

They're both quiet. Izzie takes a deep breath; he _does_ still smell the same.

"You're not going to accept, are you?" he asks blankly.

"I don't know what I'm going to do." She studies her hands in her lap. "I love my life, Alex. And the kids love their lives. They love the horses and they love their school and they're happy, they're truly happy, and that is the most important thing in the world to me. I can't just take that away from them."

He pushes up from the gurney so fast it shakes and tries to swing past her. She grabs his wrist before he can walk away from her, takes a beat to feel the staccato rap of his pulse under her hand. He spins to face her; she has to tilt her chin slightly to meet his eyes. She becomes very aware of the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

"But it is _also_ important to me that they know you."

He lifts his chin in a challenge.

"I know..." She gives a hard shake of her head. "I can't change the decisions I made when I chose to have them. I'm not going to apologize to you for those decisions or for defending the life I built for them, because it _is_ a good life and I'm freakin' proud of it." She softens her voice. "But I know that now that they know you... and especially once they know that you're their dad... I know how much that's going to matter to them. And I know how much it matters to me."

He pulls his arm away from her, gently, but doesn't leave. He settles onto the gurney next to her. His shoulder presses against hers. It feels so good she wants to cry; she closes her eyes so she won't.

"Will you at least think about it?" he asks her, quietly. When she doesn't answer right away, he says, "They would have a good life here, too, Iz. Just... please think about it."

She opens her eyes and meets his. "I will think about it," she tells him. The look between them crackles, and something she never thought she'd feel again flickers up in her soul.

"Promise me," he says.

"I promise."


	7. Season 16, Episode 15: Do I Wanna Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snowstorm descends on Seattle. Izzie and the kids need a place to stay. By the end of the night, Izzie comes to understand herself in a new way.

_"_ _Do I wanna know  
If this feelin' flows both ways?  
Sad to see you go  
Was sorta hopin' that you'd stay  
Baby, we both know  
That the nights were mainly made  
For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day."_

* * *

Izzie considers herself a calm person. When you're a surgeon, a mother of twins, and a woman in a male-dominated field, you kind of have to be.

But her child has been in the hospital for a week. A stranger – albeit a very capable, encouraging surgeon – is about to remove a piece of hardware from said child's brain, which started swelling because of a careless idiot on a bike. She's been fending off calls from her anxious mother all week – her mother who is upset that her daughter and grandchildren couldn't come out to see her because of the aforementioned brain surgery (though not upset to drive down from Chehalis herself.) And now she's been on the phone for over an hour with their hotel, trying to extend their stay for yet a second time, and they're telling her that between several conferences in town and an incoming snowstorm, there are no available rooms.

Oh, and she still has to tell her children that the doctor they've become so fond of the past few days is not only a friend, but also their father.

So, all things considered, she's a little less calm than she might like to be.

She's on hold again, pacing up and down the hall while the very kind concierge reaches out to other hotels in the area on her behalf. She pokes her head into Eli's room and, as she has every other time she's glanced in there, gets a little jolt in her chest when she sees Alex and his new wife, playing Go Fish with her children.

They're both great with the kids. Alex is full of the worst jokes, the kind that sends the twins into gales of giggles. Jo is patient and kind and both Eli and Alexis seem to like her – a fact that somehow makes Izzie both pleased and irrationally annoyed.

_Not annoyed,_ a maddening little voice reminds her. _Jealous._

_Shut up,_ she tells the voice firmly.

Alex senses her in the doorway and glances up. He flashes her an "All good?" thumbs up, to which she crosses her eyes and sticks out her tongue. He grins at her and she can't help but grin back.

Twenty minutes later, she's finally off the phone, but the news isn't good.

"Well?" Alex asks as she comes back into the room.

She presses her hand over her eyes and sighs. "No dice."

" _Everything_ is booked?" he asks incredulously.

"There are two educational conferences in town, and _three_ separate industry conferences," she says. "Plus, the weather service has issued a winter weather watch, so they had a lot of travelers book at the last minute."

"So, what are you going to do?" Jo asks. She looks sympathetic, but Izzie perceives an undercurrent of wariness in her tone; she's clearly afraid Alex is going to invite them to stay at their loft.

Izzie bites back a grin. She imagines she'd be more than a little wary if her own husband invited his surprise family over for a snowstorm sleepover too.

"I guess once Eli's discharged we'll just drive out to my mom's," she says. The idea doesn't exactly thrill her – Robbie isn't the most soothing influence at the best of times, to say nothing of when Izzie is feeling jangled and exhausted – but at this point she's out of ideas.

"Grandma Robbie's house stinks," Alexis proclaims.

"Yeah, it stinks," Eli answers. He pulls a face. "Like stinky smoke."

Alex, who has been having a silent conversation with his wife with his eyes, looks back at Izzie. "That's a stupid idea," he says in a mild, conversational tone.

"What's a stupid idea?" a new voice chimes in.

Meredith and Amelia Shepherd enter the room, each in scrubs. "Izzie wants to drive to Chehalis in a snowstorm," Alex deadpans.

"I don't _want_ to," Izzie says in protest. To Meredith she explains, "Our flight isn't for a couple days, and we have to check out of the hotel by noon. There are no vacancies either there or anywhere else, so we've got to go to my mom's."

"Don't do that," Meredith says simply. "I have plenty of space. Just come camp out at my place for a few days."

"I can't do that," Izzie says. She gestures lovingly to the kids. "We're a traveling zoo."

Amelia chuckles. "Her place is kind of a zoo itself."

"Three kids, five kids, it's all chaos," Meredith agrees. "Don't worry about it. Come on over."

Izzie hesitates. "You're being too generous." But in the end, it's better than trying to drive to Chehalis. And it is scores better than the invitation that's bound to come next, which is from Alex to stay with him and Jo in their tiny loft. "If you really don't mind..."

"Of course I don't. I'm probably going to be here all night, but my sitter, Dami, is there. I'll let her know you're coming."

"Thanks, Mer." Izzie's gratitude is almost overwhelming. "I'm happy to watch the kids, you can let her know she can go home."

"You know what that means, Eli," Amelia says. She claps her hands together. "Time to take your gear out."

Eli looks nervous, so Izzie crosses to him and wraps her arm around his little shoulders. He glances up at her with a plaintive look. "Do I have to go back to the operating room?" he asks.

"Can I watch?!" Alexis begs.

"We are going to do it right here. I'll put a special medicine on your head so you won't feel anything, we'll hang out for about an hour to make sure everything looks awesome, and then you can go home," Amelia promises him. To Alexis she says, "But unfortunately you will have to wait outside until I'm done."

"Why don't you let me take Alexis to get your stuff from the hotel?" Alex suggests to Izzie when Alexis groans and flops back on the bed dramatically. "I can take your rental and then come back and pick you up when you and Eli are discharged."

"I... are you sure?" Izzie replies. "Don't you have to work?"

He shrugs. "It's no problem. Grey Sloan hasn't processed my paperwork yet. My official start date isn't until Thursday. What do you think, lady?" he asks Alexis with a crooked grin. "Want to come jump on the hotel bed one last time?"

She jumps out of the bed and into his arms so fast it's like she's grown wings. Izzie's heart glows, though the feeling sours when she catches the softness on Jo Karev's face as she watches her husband.

To say she isn't feeling jealous might be a lie.

* * *

"And now..." Alex pauses for dramatic effect "...who... wants... _cocoa?_ "

Ellis screams with joy and Eli joins and before they know it even Zola is yelling for cocoa at the top of her lungs. Izzie laughs as the five kids swarm over him and follow him to the kitchen. In ten minutes they're crowded around Mer's busy kitchen table, chocolate ringing their mouths, enrolled in a very passionate conversation about something called the Storybots.

Alex can't stop his smile from taking over his face as he watches the way his kids have integrated so seamlessly with Mer's. He pictures the future, the five of them having sleepovers on weekends, game nights here or at the loft, noise and joy in every minute.

Before he knows it, the kids are yawning, and Izzie is corralling them into the bathroom, where they all brush their teeth and argue about who will sleep in whose room. They put the girls in Zola's room, who, like a little babysitter, promises to make everyone get to sleep right away. Eli bunks with Bailey, and when he sees the nervousness on Izzie's face, Alex unearths Ellis's old baby monitor to set up in case Eli takes a turn again.

It looks like a bomb went off downstairs, so Alex starts cleaning up while Izzie handles reading everyone bedtime stories. (Bailey and Eli had voted for _The Stinky Cheese Man_ ; the girls had demanded _Rosie Revere, Engineer._ ) He glances out the window into the swirls and gusts of snow; they sent Mer's sitter Dami home before the snow really picked up, but now it's coming down in buckets, and the wind howls like a siren.

He pulls out his phone and texts Jo.

_Are you home safe?_

She replies quickly. _I'm at the hospital. It was already horrible out by the time my last surgery ended. I'll crash in an on-call room._

He's about to respond when the three little dots appear. He waits.

_Are you planning on driving?_

He hesitates, then answers simply. _Nah. I'll sleep on Mer's couch._

There's a long pause before she replies, _Okay._

"Pretty sure Eli was asleep before I left the room."

He glances up to see Izzie descending the stairs, the receiver for the baby monitor in her hand. She moves to help him pick up the scattered pieces of Candyland, but he waves her off, so she flops down on Mer's couch. She's changed her clothes into an ancient U-Dub sweatshirt and yoga pants, her face freshly scrubbed.

"You look like you're ready to pass out yourself," Alex observes.

She smiles and shakes her head. "Post-bedtime is usually the only time of day I have to myself, so I always try to stay up for at least an hour or two."

"In that case, you want a drink?" Alex asks, moving into the kitchen. "There's some of that cocoa left."

"I could really use a glass of wine, if she's got any open."

He finds an open cabernet on the counter and pours her a glass, then nukes the remaining cocoa, adding a generous measure of the Jameson that he's pretty sure has been in Mer's liquor cabinet since he lived here. He brings both drinks to the living room, hands the wine glass to a grateful Izzie, then settles on the far end of the couch.

They start to talk, and like that first night he called, it's like the years between them have fallen away. She tells him about the farm and he almost spits out his cocoa when she describes the first week she lived there, when she had been fully convinced mucking out horse stalls "couldn't be any more gross than a perforated bowel." 

He catches her up on the people she knew who have left, and even gives her an abbreviated update on his parents – a move that surprises him, one that fills her eyes with a tenderness that makes his throat go thick.

Sometimes she'll be in the middle of telling a story and Alex has to force himself to look anywhere else to keep from staring. It feels so good, so _easy_ for her to be here, like she's always been tucked up on Meredith's couch with her bare feet and bright turquoise toenails. He's never forgotten her voice or her warm eyes or the clean neroli scent of her hair, but having it all in front of him after so long makes him wonder if he ever really appreciated how good it feels to be in her presence.

There's a lull in the conversation. They float in the comfortable silence, listening to the roaring wind and the soft sounds of an old house settling. He wants to say something – how happy he feels in this moment with her – but he's afraid if he breaks the silence, the spell will end.

She breaks it first. "This was really nice," she says, a warm and sleepy smile on her face. "I'm glad..." Her face flushes the tiniest bit and she trails off.

"You're glad...?" he prompts.

She shrugs and smiles again. "I'm glad you're doing so well. I'm glad I didn't... ruin your life or break your heart."

There's an unspoken question under her light statement: _Did I ruin your life? Did I break your heart?_ And five years ago, his answer would have been yes. But he knows now - now that he's grown, now that he sees all the good that the time apart has done for both of them - that the answer to the first question is no.

"Of all the things that have tried to ruin my life, you are far down on the list," he assures her.

"More than halfway?" she teases.

"Way more."

She laughs.

"And don't take all the credit," he goes on. She tilts her head, questioning. "We broke each other's hearts."

"Yeah." Her smile is a little sadder now. "I suppose we did."

He reaches out and brushes her hand with the back of his fingers. It surprises him – and it doesn't surprise him – to feel everything in his body go alight.

* * *

She should go to bed.

She should absolutely put down the wine glass in her hand, say goodnight, and lock herself in Meredith's spare bedroom. Hell, she should be doing anything other than sitting on this couch, feeling her heartbeat gallop away at the touch of her ex-husband's hand.

Her _married_ ex-husband.

It's just because she's back in Seattle, she tries to tell herself. Being at Grey Sloan has been like a trip in a time machine; plus, with all the stress with Eli and everything else, it's no wonder that she's feeling a little tender and nostalgic. And, well, the same could be said for being here at Meredith's. Here and the hospital are the places she fell in love with Alex; how could she not be feeling a little starry-eyed to be sitting here in front of him, especially after seeing how wonderful and natural he is with their kids?

He takes his hand away from hers and it takes all her willpower not to tell him no, to reach out and claim his fingers with hers.

But he's not hers to claim. Not anymore. Not ever again.

She becomes suddenly aware that Alex has asked her something, is waiting for a reply.

She lets out a quick, breathy laugh. "Sorry. What was that?"

"Have you thought about it anymore?" he repeats softly.

"Moving back?"

He nods.

It would be so easy to say yes. Tonight is proof it would be good, proof that they could be good co-parents, good friends. And it could mean a renewed friendship with Meredith too, which means a lot to her. All she has to do is say yes.

But suddenly her brain is full of Jo Karev.

Living in Seattle isn't going to mean cozy nights sitting on Mer's couch with Alex. It isn't going to be nights chuckling about their past and making cocoa for their kids. It's going to be shared custody and lonely weekends without the twins and being a distant entry on Alex's list of priorities. And it's going to be Jo Karev as well: Jo Karev going home every night with Alex and co-parenting Izzie's kids with Alex and maybe someday having her own children with Alex.

Does Izzie really want to have a front row seat for Alex's happy ending without her?

He's still waiting for an answer, his gaze warm and expectant.

"I've been thinking about it," she answers honestly, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I... I'm still just not sure. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry." She glances at him, mildly surprised at the compassion on his face. "Look: I was wrong to freak out before. It's a huge decision. I shouldn't have expected you to make it in five seconds. Your life, what you've built for yourself, matters too. "

She nods, relieved that he gets it. "Having a surgeon like me in a place like Kansas..." She shrugs one shoulder. "I'm not trying to brag. But most surgeons like me are at the big cancer centers, Lurie in Chicago and MD Anderson in Houston. Being in Kansas, a place where people who don't live in big cities can get to me... That's important to me. It feels like doing something good, something just."

"I get that."

"What about you?" She clears her throat. "You and... and Jo. Would you... would you consider moving?"

His brow creases thoughtfully. "I hadn't thought about it. But... if I'm asking you to move, I guess it wouldn't be fair if we didn't consider doing the same ourselves." He looks like the idea causes him pain. "I'll talk about it with her."

"I mean..." Izzie shrugs. "I guess no one has to move. We could do... long-distance joint custody, I guess."

He looks unhappy at the suggestion, but nods. "That's what Torres and Robbins did. One year on, one year off."

The idea of spending a whole year without her children makes her guts clench. "That's... they're still pretty little for that. Maybe three months at a time. Or... or summers out here or... something."

He sees the tears forming in her eyes and shifts on the couch, moving closer toward her. "Iz. We don't have to decide anything tonight." He takes her hand, but this time there's no electric spark: just warmth and comfort and kindness. "Let's just keep thinking, okay? We'll figure something out."

She uses her free hand to swipe at her teary eyes and nods thickly. "Yeah... yeah."

But to her horror, the tears are coming faster. She tries to pull her hand from Alex's so she can wipe them away, but he grips her tighter. Then he lets go, puts his hands on her shoulders and leans towards her. He rests his forehead against hers and makes a quiet, soothing sound.

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice somewhere between a chuckle and a sob. "I don't even know why I'm crying."

"Hey," he says, low and deep in his throat. "Don't apologize to me, okay?"

"Okay," she whispers.

Their faces are so close she can feel his breath on her lips, the scent of whiskey and cocoa heady between them. It would be so simple and feel so, so good to lean forward and brush her mouth over his.

But she doesn't.

Because if Alex doesn't think she ruined his life before, she's not going to ruin it now.

"Thank you," she says, leaning back. She puts her hand on top of his and squeezes. "I'm okay."

"Of course," he answers. Is there disappointment in his eyes? She can't tell.

"I think I'm going to turn in," she says, wiping the last of the tears from her cheeks. She pushes up and walks briskly to the kitchen, putting her empty wine glass in the sink.

He's standing by the couch when she comes back, hands jammed into his pockets. She wants to say something more, anything to stretch this night together out, but she doesn't. She smiles. "Thanks for everything today."

"Anytime."

"Good night."

She feels his eyes on her back as she climbs the stairs, then hears him say, "Iz?"

She turns and looks down at him. His face is hesitant. "Yeah?"

"Could we... could we tell them tomorrow? I just thought... you know, with the snow and everything... it would feel kind of like Christmas."

"Of course," she answers softly, her eyes newly wet. "I love that idea."

She will never forget the way he smiles when she says that.

She turns back around and continues up the stairs. By the time she's reached the top of the stairs, her eyes are dry. By the time she enters the bathroom and locks the door behind her, her thoughts have crystallized into comprehension.

This is not nostalgia. This is not a spell that the past has wrapped her up in.

She is still in love with Alex Karev. And there is no way she can move back to Seattle.


	8. Season 16, Episode 16: Leave a Light On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izzie and the kids return to Kansas.

_"And I know you're down and out now, but I need you to be brave._ _  
Hiding from the truth ain't gonna make this all okay.  
I see your pain,  
If you don't feel our grace  
And you've lost your way,  
I will leave the light on."_

* * *

Today is their last day in Seattle. In a few hours, they'll head for the airport and fly home to Kansas. She dropped the twins at Alex's earlier that morning so they could spend a few hours with their dad. She's already gathered up all the detritus that comes from traveling with kids, restocked their snacks, and checked in for their flight. Theoretically she should be completing her exit paperwork for the patients she's seen at Grey Sloan – but for the past twenty minutes, she's been staring out the window without seeing.

She's in love with Alex. She loves him more and better than she ever did before. She loves his wild temper and the way he's learned to harness it. She loves his passion for his work and the surgeon he has become. She loves the way he touches their children, the love that pours from his face when he looks at them. She loves his clever hands and his broad shoulders and the jut of his jaw and the blaze of his eyes. She loves the man he was and the man he is and the man he will grow to be.

And if she loves him, if this feeling is so strong now, so many years later... does that mean she never stopped loving him? She'd convinced herself that she had pushed him out of her heart long ago: convinced herself that the gulf between them was too much to breach, that the damage was too great to overcome. She'd moved on, or so she'd thought. Her work, her children, her life had become all she'd ever need.

Yet she knows her heart. She knows how her body feels. She knows that she can't stop thinking of him, can't tamp down the joy she feels when she sees him.

She's in love with Alex – Alex, who is in love with his wife.

_What the hell am I going to do?_

A brisk knock jolts Izzie out of her reverie.

She clears her throat. "Come in," she calls.

Miranda Bailey opens the door and sticks her head into the office. "Dr. Stevens, do you have a moment?"

Izzie smiles and beckons her inside. "For you, many moments."

"Just wanted to make sure you had everything wrapped up before we said goodbye," Bailey said, walking in.

Izzie opens her mouth to reply; she's prepared a standard-grade, professional response of appreciation to Bailey for granting her use of the excellent facilities at Grey Sloan. She wishes she'd gotten more time to spend with Bailey, more chances to show her what she's done with the grace and knowledge that Bailey gave her when she was her teacher.

Instead she buries her face in her hands and starts to cry.

"Izzie Stevens," Bailey says, her voice full of tenderness, which only makes Izzie cry harder.

It takes her a minute to get herself under control. By the time she does, Bailey has shut the door behind her, grabbed a box of tissues, and is perched on the edge of the desk, looking at Izzie expectantly. "I'm sorry," Izzie says as she grabs a fistful of Kleenex. "I'm fine."

"Yes, fine is exactly the word that comes to mind," Bailey says, straight-faced, and Izzie laughs weakly. Then Bailey waits patiently for Izzie to mop up her face. "Talk to me," she says when Izzie stops sniffling.

Izzie considers unburdening her whole heart to Bailey before she catches herself. Bailey is not only the chief of surgery, but she's also the glue that holds her staff together. Izzie knows, even after not having been there for years, that if you work for Bailey, Bailey is in your corner. And Izzie doesn't work for Bailey anymore; Jo Karev does.

So she tries a different approach.

"Do you ever feel..." She looks down at her hands, which are clenched around the tear-soaked tissue. "Have you ever felt like you were in the right place but at the wrong time? Like... if you had just been a little more... mature or thoughtful or put-together at a certain time in your life, the trajectory of your future would have been completely different?" She glances up at Bailey and chuckles. "Maybe you haven't. You've always been so... Dr. Bailey."

"Izzie," Bailey says, "I think that's just called being human."

"I'm happy where I am," Izzie goes on. "I truly am. But I come back here, and I see you and Meredith and... and everyone... And I wonder if I missed out."

Bailey considers this. "I'm not impartial. I think there's something special about this place. But I think... I think the people are what makes it special. And if you think you missed out on _people_ , on relationships, well, the good news is that as long as you're alive, it's not too late."

"I don't think I can move back here," Izzie whispers. "I'm not saying I don't want to... I do, and I don't." She pulls her hands hard through her hair. "It's... it's complicated."

"Well, who says you have to be here to have the relationships you want?" Bailey asks diplomatically.

"It's easier," Izzie says.

"And when have you, Izzie Stevens, backed away from hard work? You are a _mother_. You are a _surgeon_. You are a cancer survivor and a kind and generous person living in a world that, frankly, tries to squash those qualities. As far as I'm concerned, there is no harder work."

"But..." She leans back in her chair. "What if I'm just... running away again?"

And there it is. Her deep, quiet fear: that her reason for leaving all those years ago hadn't been because she refused to stay where she wasn't wanted, but because she had been too prideful and fearful to stay, too stubborn and hurt to do the work to save her job, her friendships, and her love.

Bailey spreads her hands. "Now, I can't tell you that. Only you know if you're running away. But in my experience, when you have a good life and good people surrounding you, and you choose to stay with them, you are not running away from anything. You are running _towards_ something."

"That..." Izzie sighs and straightens up. "That actually makes me feel better."

Bailey reaches down and squeezes Izzie's hand. "There is no one perfect family, Izzie," she says. "All you can do is make your choices with love."

She rises. Izzie rises as well and leans over to hug her. Then Bailey is gone.

* * *

There's a knock on the door of the loft; it makes Alex's heart leap into his throat.

"It's Mom!" Eli cheers.

Alex swallows the lump in his throat and forces a mischievous expression. "Or maybe... a goblin?!" he suggests.

"Or a _witch!"_ Alexis adds.

Alex grins at her. He stands up from his stool where he and the kids have been enjoying a snack of animal crackers Jo bought just for their visit (it's like the third snack today – how many snacks do kids eat every day?) and walks over to the door.

Izzie smiles at him when he opens it. His heart surges at her smile and aches when he remembers why she's there.

She's taking his children home.

"Not a goblin or a witch," Alex calls over his shoulder to the kids. "Just some fairy queen."

"Oho, a fairy queen, huh?" Izzie asks as the kids cheer and pelt across the loft into her arms.

"Mom! Did you know Dad has a _skull_ on his shelf?!"

"Hey! Hey Mom! Dad and Jo bought plane tickets to come visit us in four weeks! That's just... just..."

"Twenty-six more days," Alex tells Eli. He reassures Izzie, "And it's, uh, not a real skull. It's plastic."

She feigns wiping sweat off her brow in relief, making him laugh. To the kids she says, "Okay, here's your job: please go find your backpacks and make sure all your toys are still inside, okay?"

They run off, leaving their parents alone.

"Hey, Alex."

"Hey, Iz."

He's been imagining this moment of goodbye with mild dread for days. Would she promise to move back to Seattle? Would she tell him she'd already told Koracick no? He's planned how he would respond in every scenario, but now – looking into her eyes, knowing that there's an indeterminate separation looming between them – now that the moment is in front of him, his mind doesn't know what to do. He only knows he doesn't want her – any of them – to leave.

So he ignores his mind, reaches out and takes her hands. Their fingers knot together. He lifts their joined hands and presses them over his heart.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "For... God, I don't even know. Everything." He glances over to where Eli and Alexis are stuffing their backpacks. "They're the best things, Izzie. I can't even believe they're mine. I've never felt so lucky."

"Thank _you_ ," she answers. "You gave them to me."

Something golden and glowing passes between them, something he hasn't felt in years and years. There's a moment when he thinks she'll speak, but instead she releases his hands and hugs him close, her palm pressing against the nape of his neck. Her heart pounds against his, and for a second they're in perfect sync.

Before he can think about it too hard, he slides his fingers into her hair. He pulls back and plants a soft, slow kiss between her cheek and her mouth.

When she steps back, her eyes are limned with tears.

"Alex," she begins, her voice gravelly with pain.

Fear and hope, so mixed up he can't separate them, seize his heart.

"We'll figure this out," he interrupts her. "We will." His voice is more confident than he feels.

"I know we will," she answers. She lets out a deep breath, steps away from him, and calls out to the kids. "All right, my loves. Time to go. Can you come give your dad a hug?"

They come thundering across the floor towards him. He gathers them up in his arms and buries his face in their warm little necks. His whole heart shatters.

"When you come you can see the stuff on _my_ shelves," Alexis tells him when he pulls away.

He swipes hurriedly at the tears on his face. "I can't wait," he tells her.

He has never meant anything more.

* * *

Hours later, as a salmon and rust sunset burns across the Kansas sky, Izzie and the twins walk into their home.

Her housekeeper Leta has been there; she left a low light burning in the kitchen and a note that directs Izzie on how to prepare the casserole she left for them in the freezer. Everything is quiet and gleaming and clean. Leta has also gathered up a lovely bouquet of beebalm and left it in Izzie's favorite vase.

The twins cheer "We're home!" and Izzie laughs at their pure, unbridled joy. They love coming home as much as they love vacation.

"Please take your backpacks to your room, okay?" she says.

"Okay, Mom!" they chirp and run off.

Izzie looks around her and sighs. Finally, they're home. Whatever happens next, at least they're home.

She should feel happy to be back... or at least relieved. But when she lets herself be still, all she can think about is the feel of Alex's kiss pressed against her cheek.

She starts to cry again.


	9. Season 16, Episode 17: Not Ready to Make Nice

_"Forgive, sounds good  
Forget, I'm not sure I could.  
They say time heals everything  
But I'm still waiting."_

* * *

"I need to talk to you."

Meredith glances up over her shoulder. Jo, agitation writ all over her face, is standing so close to Meredith that she's almost riding on her back. The other woman is looking around furtively, her voice pitched low and private.

"Karev... I can smell the coffee on your breath. Back up about six inches, please."

Jo glares but takes a step back.

"It's about Alex. I mean..." She takes another furtive peek around. "I'm sure you've noticed..."

 _Ah,_ Meredith thinks. _So that's what this is about.... And yes, I've noticed._

"I'm heading to OR 1 for a bowel resection," she answers. "Come scrub in with me."

Jo nods. "I'll meet you in there."

What Meredith doesn't say – but what she's certainly thinking – is that you'd have to be blind, deaf, and probably in another state entirely not to notice what's going on with Alex Karev.

She finishes her prep and heads to the OR. By the time Jo shoulders through the door into the operating room, the anesthesiologist has already put her patient, Lucy, under.

"Did you get lost?" Meredith asks.

"Sorry," Jo mutters as she takes her place across from Meredith. "Had to... run interference."

"What was it this time?" Meredith asks, carefully making the first incision. She arches a brow at Jo. "Sloppy chart? Someone breathing too loudly?"

"Schmitt seems to have forgotten how to intubate and Alex happened to be on the warpath in the ER to witness it."

"At least it's a legitimate complaint."

"This time." Jo sighs and takes up a set of forceps.

"Has he been like this at home?"

"I mean... yes and no. He's not, you know, actively screaming at me. He just... sits and stares at the wall."

Meredith considers this. "And when you ask him what's going on?"

Jo shrugs. "He just says he doesn't want to talk about it."

They tend to the patient for a few minutes before Meredith cautiously approaches the elephant in the room. "Has he heard from Izzie?"

"Oh yes. She's been sending photos of the kids every day, she lets him know how they're doing. She's set them up a video chat on the weekends, which he loves." Jo's tone is studied in its neutrality; she has clearly been working at it.

"I don't suppose she's talked to Koracick?"

"Not that I've heard."

"Do you want her to?"

There's a long pause. "I want Alex to be happy," she finally answers. "And if that means having her here, I guess I'll figure it out. I'm just... worried he won't be able to be happy if it doesn't work out exactly the way he wants."

Meredith quietly returns her focus to her work.

"You think I'm wrong?" Jo asks.

"No," Meredith answers simply. "I think you're right."

* * *

"Karev!"

Alex whirls around. Richard Webber is standing at the door to the skills lab, where Alex has been for the past hour as Levi Schmitt practices his fortieth intubation.

"Do you think this is the best use of your time?" Webber asks, folding his arms over his chest. "Torturing residents?"

"Making sure our residents don't kill anyone because they can't remember how to perform tasks that they should have perfected in med school?" Alex retorts. He sees Schmitt cower in the corner of his vision. "Yeah, seems like a pretty solid use of my time."

Webber frowns and turns his attention to the cringing resident. "Dr. Schmitt, take a walk."

"Oh thank God," is his fervent reply. He scuttles past Webber and out of the skills lab before Alex can object.

The stormy anger that has been crackling through Alex starts to rise in his throat.

"Is this not a teaching hospital anymore?" he demands. "Am I not supposed to be his teacher?"

"Not if you call that teaching," Webber shoots back. He walks the rest of the way into the room and seats himself at a lab table. "Now, you gonna tell me what's going on with you, or are you going to make me waste both our time guessing?"

A spear of hot, corrosive rage breaks loose from its place in his chest and spears through him. The only thing that keeps it from ricocheting out of his mouth in a vituperative torrent is almost two decades of respect for the man in front of him – but it still takes a degree of self-control he isn't sure he can maintain.

"What's going on with me is nobody's business but mine," he manages through gritted teeth.

Richard leans forward onto his elbows. "Alex, I know what you're feeling."

"You don't have any idea," Alex growls. "Not one."

"You think I don't know the regret you have right now? The fear that you've lost out on your only chance to be in your child's life?" Richard rises and moves towards Alex, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm here to tell you that you haven't."

Alex shrugs him away. "I'm not discussing this with you." His voice is so hard and tense it almost doesn't sound like his own anymore.

But Richard ignores him, continues despite Alex's rapidly failing control. "The first thing I felt when I knew Maggie was grief. The kind of grief that can't go away because you can't change it. A grief that felt like equal parts failure and rage. It's like losing control in the worst way." He spreads his hands. "But I got through that. I worked past it. And I can't get the years I lost back, but I have Maggie. I have a future with her – and you have a future with your children. That's a win, Karev. It's a win."

Anger transforms into anguish so quickly it makes Alex's head spin. "You call twenty years lost a win?" he says incredulously. "That's supposed to make me feel _better?"_

He can't take another second of this. He bangs through the doors of the skills lab and into the hall so forcefully that a passing nurse shrieks.

* * *

He goes to the gym, runs five miles on a treadmill. It doesn't help.

He eats lunch alone in his new office and stares at his phone. It's only ten AM in Kansas; he doesn't expect photos from Izzie until close to midnight his time.

He ignores a series of texts from Meredith and Jo.

How long has it been since he felt like this? How long since he felt like his body was just a vessel for anger? He'd forgotten what it was to feel like he's nothing more than a seething mass of every horrible thought and fear and mood he's ever had. How did he survive so many years of being at the mercy of his out-of-control emotions?

He hates it more than he remembers.

There's a knock, which he ignores. But rather than leave, the person on the other side of the door turns a key in the lock.

"What are you doing?" he snarls at Bailey as she enters.

"I could take the door off the hinges if you'd prefer," she answers. She jingles her keyring at him. "But I thought I'd leave you a little bit of your dignity."

"I'm busy," he lies.

"You are no such thing." Bailey settles herself in a chair in front of his desk.

Alex glares – a gesture that has no effect on her whatsoever. She levels a steady, appraising look at him. "Do I need to suspend you?" she asks finally.

"For?" he shoots back.

"Terrorizing my staff." She ticks items off on her fingers. "I've heard complaints from three nurses, a resident, an anesthesiologist, and your co-chief... all variants of the fact that you are thundering around this place like you don't have an ounce of professional courtesy."

"Whatever." He looks back down at the files on his desk. "You want to suspend me, do it."

He feels Bailey's eyes burning the top of his head, and for a moment he thinks she's going to do it. He almost welcomes it.

But she surprises him.

"Get up," she orders.

He hadn't expected that. "What?"

"Get up," she repeats. "Come with me."

"You gonna escort me out?" he asks.

She shakes her head, shrugging out of her lab coat. She folds it over the chair and heads towards the door without waiting to see if he'll follow. "I'm escorting you to the bar."

* * *

They get a booth in the corner at Joe's; they're basically the only people in the bar. Bailey lets him drink two neat whiskeys in silence while she sips at a glass of white wine. He doesn't want it to, but by the time the second whiskey sinks in, the violent knot rattling around in his chest has shrunk enough for him to speak.

"I'm not okay."

"I have remarkable powers of observation, Karev. I know you are not okay. I am hoping we can make it so you will stop taking it out on every innocent person to cross your path."

He tries to explain, but the words are entombed somewhere deep within the mass in his chest. He shakes his head and signals their waitress for another whiskey.

"You miss your children," Bailey says quietly. "That's hard enough. But now you have to worry about what your future with them is going to look like."

He doesn't answer.

"Your life just changed in a way you couldn't have imagined," she continues. She traces a finger around the rim of her wine glass. "Everything just got turned on its head and you don't know which way is up anymore. It's not surprising you're feeling overwhelmed and angry and confused. You don't know what's going to happen, and surgeons hate not knowing what's going to happen. Of course you're angry; I'd be angry too." She points her finger at him sternly. "But whatever else you're feeling towards Izzie Stevens, you need to move past that. She's the mother of your children and—"

"I'm not angry at Izzie."

Bailey stops and looks him over, skeptical. He pulls his gaze away from the depths of his whiskey and finally meets her eye. Whatever she sees there convinces her.

"You're not angry at all," she says slowly.

The mass in his chest suddenly shrinks. The emptiness it leaves in its wake nearly ruins him.

"I'm not angry at Izzie," he repeats. He drains his whiskey. "I _miss_ her."

And there it is. The thing that's been ricocheting around inside him since the day they said goodbye; the thing that never goes away, no matter how many sweet photos he gets of his children; the thing he only just learned to name.

He misses Izzie, misses her so much it's like he's lost a limb. He goes to bed thinking about her and wakes up grasping at memories of dreams of her. He finds himself picking up his phone to call her a hundred times a day, looking at last-minute flights to Kansas before he forces himself to stop. There's a constant throb in his throat, like he's close to screaming all the time. It's as if she's left him all over again.

"I miss the kids too," he says finally. "Of course I do. I didn't realize how physical it would feel to miss them: the insides of my arms hurt, like if I could just hold them the pain would go away. But I... I have to trust that we're going to work something out that I won't have to miss them so much anymore, or I'm going to lose my mind." He closes his eyes and rubs his fists over them. "But this... I don't know what I'm going to do about this."

Bailey is silent. He glances up at her, expecting to see judgment, but he doesn't find it. It's enough to make him go on.

"I can't talk about this with Jo," he says. "And I can't talk about it with Mer. I'm alone here, with this _feeling_ that _never goes away,_ this feeling that I think might crush me." He looks back down into his glass. "So if you have any ideas, Bailey, if you can help me not to feel like this all the time, then tell me."

She doesn't answer, and Alex's heart sinks. When Bailey doesn't have the answer, it's trouble.

"Just... tell me, Bailey," he says. Desperation creeps into his voice. "Tell me what to do."

She puts her hand on top of his and squeezes. It does nothing to make him feel better.

"You know I can't, Alex. I wish I could... but you and I both know there's only one person you can talk to about this."

He knows.

They sit together while Bailey finishes her drink in silence. She throws a few twenties on the table and makes to leave. He gathers up the money, hands it back to her, and stays where he is. Bailey looks down at him for a few moments, then rests her hand on his shoulder.

"Take the day," she says. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you."

He watches her as she walks away, then orders another whiskey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! Hope you're enjoying the story so far.
> 
> Going to take a update break for about a week - see you soon!


	10. Season 16, Episode 18: Stay with Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izzie and Alex come clean with each other.... to a point.

_"Why am I so emotional?_

_No, it's not a good look, gain some self-control._

_Deep down I know this never works,_

_But you could lay with me_

_So it doesn't hurt?"_

* * *

Izzie erases her last surgery of the day from the Shawnee County OR board, the familiar ache of exhaustion radiating throughout her limbs. This is only the fourth extrapleural pneumonectomy she's ever performed, and it was arguably the most complex. She's been in the OR for most of the afternoon and well into the evening.

"Dr. Stevens, are you sure you don't want me to monitor the patient overnight?"

Izzie smiles at Rose Allen, who has been her best resident since day one. "No. I need to be here, at least for the first twenty-four hours."

Rose nods. She knows the data. This is not a statistically-friendly surgery: six percent of patients who undergo the procedure die during or immediately afterward. They've been lucky so far with their patient, Harold, but he's a sixty-eight-year-old man with mesothelioma; things are going to be touch and go for a while.

"You should go get some sleep," Izzie continues. "You did fantastic work today." She rolls her shoulders. "But Dr. Allen? If you wanted to run through the Culver's drive-through and bring me back the largest possible order of fried cheese curds before you head home, I wouldn't say no."

"On it," Rose says with a grin.

"Great. Thank you. Good night."

Izzie checks in with the nursing staff before she goes down to update Harold's family. He's a widower, but his daughter, Maeve, is as fierce and protective as any spouse Izzie's ever seen. She has been to every appointment, often taking time off from her teaching job and driving four hours round-trip to be with her dad.

Maeve's freckled face is wrecked with worry when Izzie enters the waiting room, but when Izzie smiles at her, relief washes every line away. Her big brown eyes brim up with tears.

"He is so strong," Izzie says as Maeve grips both of her hands. "He was a rock star through the whole procedure."

"When can I see him?" his daughter begs. "Can I stay with him in his room?"

Izzie shakes her head. "We have to keep him in recovery for at least the first forty-eight hours, but I can let you see him through the glass."

Maeve starts to protest, but Izzie holds up a hand. "I know." She smiles again. "He's your dad. You want to be with him. But we have to keep him safe, right?"

The other woman deflates slightly. "Right."

"I'll be here all night," Izzie assures her. "I'm not going anywhere. You can stay in the waiting room if you want, but you'll almost certainly be more comfortable at your hotel."

Maeve nods and the tears in her eyes finally spill onto her cheeks. She crushes Izzie against her in a hug. "I can't thank you enough, Dr. Stevens."

Izzie hugs her back. "There's really no need." She pulls back and squeezes Maeve's shoulders. "Let's go see your dad."

She walks Maeve up to recovery, where Harold has been stationed in the bed closest to the door. They chat for a few minutes before Izzie can convince Maeve to go back to her hotel; she walks her to the parking lot, where Rose shows up a few minutes later, a bag of fried cheese nuggets clutched in her first. Izzie accepts them gratefully then walks up to her office. Her steps are getting slower and heavier every minute.

In her office, she grabs the fuzzy purple blanket she keeps on hand for the nights she stays at the hospital, her water bottle, and her cell phone. A quick glance at the screen makes her smile: Anh sent her a video of the kids brushing their teeth before bed. She pauses outside the recovery ward to watch it, then reflexively forwards it to Alex. 

She sets up shop in the little antechamber next to Harold's recovery bay, then carefully dons a set of personal protective equipment before she goes in to check his stats. His color is good, his heart rate and BP in the normal range. His O2 stats are borderline, but given that she just removed his right lung, the pleural lining of his chest and heart, and his diaphragm, that's to be expected.

"You just need a little time to settle in," she murmurs to Harold. "This is your new normal."

After she updates his chart and feels satisfied that she's checked all her boxes, she finally sits down to eat her late-night meal. It's gone cold by this point, but she scarfs it down like it's a Michelin-starred entree.

When she's finished her food and chugged most of her water, she settles into the boxy chair to try and get some sleep. Unfortunately, after twenty minutes it becomes apparent that she might actually be too exhausted to drift off.

She pulls out her phone instead and immediately swipes to her text messages. A tiny frown creases her face. Alex, who normally responds to her photos and videos of the kids fairly quickly at this time of night, hasn't answered the text she sent him earlier. Come to think of it... she scrolls up to be sure. Yes; he hasn't replied to her in three whole days; she's been so busy she's barely noticed.

She quickly taps out a message with her thumbs.

_Hey you. Just checking in. Hope you're doing okay._

She waits a few minutes for a response but gets nothing – not even the telltale three dots.

"Earth to Isobel!"

She jolts and spins in her chair to face the door. She relaxes when she sees Dylan Rees smiling at her from the doorframe. "Hey," she greets him. "Sorry, I was on another planet."

"I know; I was talking to you for a whole minute before you noticed me." He walks into the room and settles into the smaller folding chair. Dylan is a general surgeon who started at Shawnee County the same week as Izzie; he is whip-smart and witty, and few people can make her laugh the way he can. Though they look nothing alike (Dylan being half Palestinian), he reminds her a lot of George. They've been thick as thieves since that very first day – so much so that he's one of the few people who knows the whole story about her, Alex, and their children.

Dylan nods at Harold. "I heard you were on fire today."

She smiles at him. "Thanks. We'll see."

Dylan cocks his head at her. "What's going on? You seem—" He gestures vaguely at her. "Not yourself."

Izzie shrugs. "I think I'm just tired."

He folds his arms over his chest. He knows her too well to buy that. "Or?" he probes.

She sighs and passes him her phone. Dylan scans it and passes it back. "So what, you're getting ghosted by your baby daddy?"

"No." She presses on her temples where the beginnings of a headache are brewing. "Maybe. I don't know."

"You haven't told him you're staying, have you?"

"I don't know if I'm staying," she reminds him.

Dylan gives her an appraising look. "It's been three weeks. You haven't said yes. That means you're saying no."

She doesn't answer; she knows he's right.

"Izzie." Her friend reaches over and puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's okay to make a choice that's best for you, you know. You don't owe him your whole existence."

"Don't I?" She scrapes her hands through her hair and pulls it back hard, hoping to alleviate the headache. "Don't I owe him at least five years, for all the years he hasn't had with his kids?" She smiles wryly at him. "I could live in Seattle for five years. You'd take care of my horses, right?"

Dylan sticks out his tongue at her and they both laugh; he grew up in Chicago and is about as outdoorsy as Audrey Hepburn. "Alex doesn't think you owe him anything," Dylan reminds her. "Right? He understands where you're at, he's not making demands, he's being compassionate."

Izzie nods. "He's been... I mean, he's been wonderful."

"So why are you beating yourself up? Why not just let yourself off the hook for once?"

She sighs and tilts her head back. "Because... because I feel guilty." She looks away, close to tears. "Because I know the truth."

"Which is?"

Izzie absently strokes her fingers over her purple blanket. "The truth..." She bites her lip. "The truth is I would move back in a heartbeat if he wasn't married. If I thought there was... even the slightest future for us romantically... I would have already signed my papers and been out of here on the next flight. I'm keeping my kids from being able to see their father as much as possible because I'm... selfish."

They're quiet for a minute. Finally Izzie looks up into Dylan's eyes and offers a tiny shrug. "I love him. I'm in love with him. I don't want to have to watch him to be in love with someone else."

* * *

Every day at a hospital is a hard day. Even the days where everything goes perfectly – where every surgery is flawless, where every prognosis is golden – are hard.

Today is not a day that everything went perfectly.

"How were we supposed to know?" Jo is saying as they walk up to their loft. "I mean, DeLuca has been erratic lately anyway, but today... My God. How were we supposed to know this time he was right?"

Alex bites his tongue as he unlocks their front door. Alex was in back-to-back surgeries all day and so he missed the horrifying scene – DeLuca in hysterics, begging for help for a girl he thought was a human trafficking victim – but he's certain that if he had been there, he would have believed him. Jo has been on this tear since they left Grey Sloan, so riled up about DeLuca's behavior that she seems to have forgotten that a child is in danger, and it's getting harder and harder for him to answer her calmly.

"It's ridiculous that everyone on staff hasn't been through a human trafficking training," he says as mildly as he can. "It's required for everyone specializing in peds – it _should_ be required for everyone. We really dropped the ball today."

"I don't disagree," Jo says, slinging her purse onto their couch and stepping out of her sneakers. "But if DeLuca had been just a little more rational—"

His patience evaporates. "It's not his fault," Alex snaps. He walks over to the fridge and yanks it open to pull out a beer. "The dude is obviously going through something, and yeah, he absolutely needs help. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't have listened to him and taken him seriously."

Jo looks at him like he's the one who's crazy. "Alex, you weren't there. You didn't hear him screaming, you didn't see him sobbing. You don't know what it was like."

"I know what it's like." He drinks half his beer in two gulps. "My mother was consistently way worse than DeLuca could have possibly been, but even she knew what she was talking about _some_ of the time. You know my brother and I both had strep throat one time when I was about eight... She tried to take us to the ER when our fevers spiked, but they knew her by that point because of all the welfare calls they'd had to make to our house, and so they just thought she was having another 'episode.'" He carves out sarcastic air quotes with his fingers. "Jimmy managed to drag his drunk ass home in time to get us to a doctor, but by that point, the strep throat had turned into scarlet fever. We could have died because no one would listen to the crazy lady!"

She looks stricken, and Alex realizes how loud his voice has gotten. "I'm... That sounds terrible."

"It _was_ terrible." He finishes his beer and resists the urge to slam the empty bottle down on the counter. "Just because people are mentally ill doesn't mean they aren't capable of _any_ rational thought. And DeLuca... I'm just saying we owed him the benefit of the doubt. And because we didn't give it to him, there's a kid out there..."

A horrible image of Alexis, ripped away from him or Izzie, alone and scared, floods his mind. He physically cringes and pushes it out of his mind.

"Alex..." His wife takes a step towards him and says. "What's with you tonight? You've been so... what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on. I just think it's bullshit that we don't treat mentally ill people like _people._ "

She looks like she might reach out to touch him, and suddenly he has to get _out_ , get _away,_ get as far from her and the loft as possible.

"I'm taking a walk," he says. He grabs his keys and stalks back out of the loft, ignoring the sound of Jo calling after him.

A now-familiar bubbling anger is coursing through him, but by the time he exists their building, it peters out into something uncomfortably close to depression. Since he doesn't want to go back up and fight with Jo - but he doesn't want to apologize either - he opts to walk around the block.

A walk around in the block turns into a mile. Then a mile and a half. His feet mindlessly carry him out of his neighborhood and into a brighter, cleaner part of Seattle. He detours into a park not far from Grey Sloan where he's gotten lunch with Mer before and finds a bench.

He shoots Jo a quick text: _Sorry. I'm walking it off. See you in the morning._

He silences the ringer when she tries to call him a moment later, sends her to voicemail. And then he calls Izzie.

He shouldn't. Ever since he figured out how desperately he misses her, he's been trying to keep his distance, not responding to her texts and photos. He's scared that if he talks to her even for a second, he's going to break down and tells her everything, and in an already complicated situation, he doesn't need to make things worse. But right now the only thing in the universe that he wants – in spite of the hour, in spite of the complications, in spite of everything – is to hear her voice again.

She answers immediately.

"Are you okay?"

Every part of him relaxes. Even when she sounds worried and exhausted, her voice is one of his favorites in the world.

"Hey. Hey, don't worry, I'm fine. Are _you_ okay? Why are you still up?"

"I'm fine." There's a shuffling sound in the background on her end. "I had a pretty intense surgery today, so I'm monitoring a patient overnight." He hears a door click. "How are you? Everything okay? I haven't heard from you in a bit."

"Yeah, it's... Sorry, I've been..."

He struggles to find an excuse, but before he can find one, a feeling of clarity floods him. He doesn't want to lie to Izzie. Yes, his honesty might make things more complicated, but how are they supposed to work together as parents if they can't be honest with each other? She started something good and new when she had their kids; he wants to be good too. He wants to be kind and he wants to be honest and he wants to be better than they were before, back when they never knew how to tell each other what was in their hearts.

He laughs a little and tries again. "I've been hiding from you," he confesses.

"Oh." She sounds concerned. "Why?"

"Because I really miss you."

There it is, on the table. He holds his breath.

Her voice in his ear is almost unbearably gentle. "I miss _you_."

He lets out his breath. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I was afraid that if I called you, I'd just barf out all my feelings and... I know you've got enough to deal with right now."

"I... Yeah, I guess I do."

There's a stretch of silence, and when she speaks, he already knows what she's going to say.

"Alex. I can't move to Seattle."

He waits for the anger. He waits for pain and fury and hurt to take over his brain and heart. But they don't. For whatever reason, they don't.

"I'm going to give you joint custody," she goes on in a rush, mistaking his silence for anger. "I'm not walking back on that. They're your kids too, and we're going to do everything evenly, fifty-fifty. But – if I'm honest with myself, honest with what I need, what's best for me – I just can't do it, Alex. There's a million reasons why, and I'll – I'll try to explain, if you need me to, but..."

"Izzie." He tries to keep his voice as steady as possible. "I get it."

"You do?" She's crying but trying not to let him hear it.

"I do. It's... It sucks, but it's okay. You know?"

She sniffs. "I know."

A horrible thought enters his head. "Do you... does this mean you don't want me and Jo to think about moving to Kansas?"

"No!" she says. "No, I don't mean that at all. Of course you can still move here, if that's what you want."

"Obviously I'm not sure yet. I need to visit first. But... it's on the table for me still, Iz. As long as it's okay with you."

"Of course it is. I'll be so glad to see..." She clears her throat. "I mean, it's going to be everything to the kids to see you. They can't stop talking about all the things they want to show you. You should probably just clear your calendar for everything except meals while you're here."

"I can't wait."

He can almost hear her smile on the other end of the line. "Me too."

Alex looks down at his watch. "I should get home."

"Yeah, I've got to go check on my patient."

There's a long pause. Neither of them hang up.

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Call me tomorrow," she says. "Please? I want us to talk more. Okay? Don't hide from me anymore."

"Anything you want," he says.

And he means it.


	11. Season 16, Episode 19: Love of My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex attends the Surgical Innovation Conference when he makes an impulsive, last-minute decision.

_"You will remember_

_When this is blown over_

_Everything's all by the way._

_When I grow older_

_I will be there at your side to remind you_

_How I still love you (I still love you)."_

* * *

"I hate these things," Alex grumbles. He resists the urge to tug off his tie and throw it into the milling crowd in the hotel lobby. 

"Really? I kind of love them." Maggie is all fresh-faced and dewy, her eyes sparkling.

"You love sitting around listening to self-important blowhards try and convince each other they're the smartest nerd in the room? I don't know why I had to come; Hayes is here, there's no reason for both peds chairs to attend."

"Besides the fantastic company," Maggie jokes, pretending to be offended.

Alex rolls his eyes. "You're fun, Pierce, you're not _that_ fun."

"Where's your sense of wonder?!" she demands. "This is like a science fair and the Olympic village, all wrapped up in one – minus all the sex, obviously." She folds her hand around his elbow and sweeps her hand through the air like she's reading a marquee. "The Surgical Innovation Conference! All the best nerds coming together to show off how smart they are and hopefully make a ton of money doing it!"

Alex grins at her reluctantly, mostly just because he can tell how hard she's been working to cheer him up: sharing her trail mix on the plane, cracking jokes on the Uber ride to the conference, offering to buy him a commemorative T-shirt. He doesn't know if Mer put her up to it or if he's really just that much of a sad sack, but either way, he appreciates the effort.

"So what do you want to do first?" Maggie pulls the agenda out of her purse and scans it eagerly. "Richard isn't presenting his PathPen until tomorrow, but there's an R&D panel in half an hour, or an alternative medicine presentation, or a heart valve happy hour."

"That one," Alex says immediately. "Free booze."

Maggie chuckles and puts the agenda back in her bag. "Perfect. Follow me."

* * *

The hotel bar is nice: sort of gilded and modern, lots of sparkly light fixtures and mirrors. Alex avoids the crush of cardio surgeons who are all exchanging creds and sidles up to bar. He finally gives up the ghost and loosens his tie, then orders a beer for him and a merlot for Maggie, who stepped away to say hi to a colleague she knows from the conference circuit.

He pulls out his phone and quickly snaps what is probably only the second selfie he's ever taken. He taps out, _Made it to LA_ , and sends it.

A few seconds later comes the response.

_Ritzy place. Nice tie, Dr. Karev._

_Thanks_. _Did you ask them?_

_Alexis wants a seagull. Eli says a surfboard. Sooooo let's go with t-shirts for both._

He laughs. _Sounds good,_ he replies.

_Have fun. Talk tonight?_

_Talk tonight._

"Checking in with Jo?"

He starts as Maggie takes a seat on the stool next to him. "No, uh..." He slips his phone back into his coat pocket, then nods his thanks to the bartender who has just delivered their drinks. "Actually it's... my..."

"Ah." Maggie sips her wine. "Your kids' mom. Izzie, right?"

"Yeah," he answers, equal parts relieved he doesn't have to explain the situation and annoyed that he apparently has no secrets from anyone. "I guess Mer told you?"

Maggie purses her lips at him and he chuckles and rolls his eyes. "Amelia," they say in one voice, and Maggie laughs too.

"How're you doing with all that?" Maggie asks. There's no thirst for gossip in her gaze: only kindness. "How's Jo doing with all that?"

"Honestly?" He takes a drink of his IPA. "I'm doing pretty great. They're amazing kids." He pulls out his phone again and opens his photos: the app is comprised of nothing but photos of Eli and Alexis that Izzie has sent him. "I never thought I was gonna be that dude at the conference showing off pictures of his kids," he says, sliding Maggie his phone. "But now that I am... I kinda love it."

She pores over the photos and makes a happy cooing sound. "Wow... they look _just_ like you." She passes the phone back to him.

"Thanks." He bounces his leg. "We're... Jo and I... we're talking about moving there. To Kansas."

"Wow..." Maggie shakes her head. "That's a big deal."

"Yeah. We're going down early next week to kind of scope it out." He shakes his head ruefully. "I'm not saying I want to leave Seattle, but the idea of being with them all the time, seeing them, playing with them, putting them to bed... It's all I can think about. I can barely focus. I'm like a kid before summer vacation."

"I get that. What's their mom like?" Maggie asks. "She's a surgeon too, right?"

Alex nods, flooded with gratitude that she either didn't notice – or chose to ignore – that he didn't answer her question about Jo. He honestly doesn't know what he would have said in any case, because while Jo has been more understanding and sympathetic than many would have been in her position, at least with regards to the children, there's a definite chill between them whenever he brings up Izzie or the logistics of their upcoming trip to Kansas.

He doesn't want to talk about that, though. He wants to talk about Izzie.

"Yeah," he answers Maggie. "Surgical oncologist. She's... kind of hard to describe. She's a fantastic mother, I mean, you can tell that just from the way she talks about the kids – and you can tell even more when you meet them and see how smart and sweet and funny they are. She's generous... you know she completely funded the Denny Duquette clinic?"

"Wow... that's amazing."

"Yeah... She's probably the kindest person I've ever met."

He wants to go on; after all, his brain is a library of all of Izzie Stevens' best qualities. He knows that if left to his own devices, he could talk about her for hours: about their shared past, about how he fell apart when she left, about having her back in his life feels like a gift he doesn't quite deserve.

But something holds him back – loyalty to Jo, perhaps, or maybe just the knowledge that once he starts talking about Izzie, he won't be able to stop. So instead he gives Maggie a halfhearted shrug and works to change the subject.

"She's just... something else. And the kids? Don't get me started. They're so freakin' cute I can't even handle it, and it is literally my job to hang out with cute kids."

He notices Maggie studying him closely, her eyes soft and thoughtful. "What?" he asks, trying to sound offhanded.

"Nothing, just..." She clinks her wine glass against the neck of his beer bottle. "Being a dad really suits you. You seem really happy."

"I am, you know? I really am."

Maggie opens her mouth as if she's about to speak again, when suddenly her jaw drops in a cartoonish display of shock. "Oh my God..."

Alex turns to look over his shoulder. There's another group of surgeons further down the bar, most of them older, save for a young, handsome black guy who's laughing at someone's joke. "You know that guy?" he asks.

She nods slowly. "He was... one of my residents at Tufts. Winston Ndugu. God, I... I haven't seen him in years."

He gestures with his beer bottle. "You want to go say hi?"

Maggie shakes her head, an uncharacteristic blush coming up in her cheeks. "No, I – he probably doesn't remember me at all."

Alex glances back into the crowd. Winston happens to look up at the same moment; Alex watches as his face lights up. A slow smile spreads across the younger man's face.

"Well, he's not smiling at _me_ like that," Alex says.

"Shut up," Maggie breathes, but her face transforms with surprise and happiness as Winston starts walking towards them.

"What were you saying about the Olympic Village?" Alex mutters under his breath, giving her a crooked grin.

" _Shut up,_ " Maggie insists.

Alex laughs and pushes up from the bar, throwing down some cash for a tip. "Knock 'em dead, Pierce," he says, and leaves her to her old friend.

He walks out of the bar, grabbing his own copy of the agenda from a nearby tabletop. He scans the list of sessions, trying to find something he can attend that doesn't sound completely boring.

Nothing catches his interest. Nothing sounds good. He wonders whether there's a good toy store within walking distance; no way he's just bringing the kids boring old t-shirts.

Something clicks in his brain.

Before he knows it, his feet are taking him to the elevator. He fumbles in his pockets for his keycard and lets himself into his hotel room. It's nice – the bed is huge and plush and the view of downtown LA can't be beat.

But he's only there for a few minutes.

He grabs his suitcase. Two minutes later he's out the door again.

* * *

"Eli!" Izzie points her spatula across the kitchen at her son. "If you put those eggs anywhere other than your mouth again I am going to send you to live at the monkey house! Clean it up and leave your sister alone, please."

Her son slumps down in his seat and pouts at her. He takes his napkin and reaches out at a glacial pace to wipe up the eggs that are now smeared across the tabletop. Seconds later a mischievous smile takes over his face. "If I lived in the monkey house," he announces slyly, "I wouldn't just throw my eggs. I... would... throw... POOP!"

Alexis shrieks with laughter and Izzie forces herself to keep a straight face, even though she really, really wants to laugh. "When you live in the monkey house, you can throw whatever you want," she allows. "But until then, you're stuck with me, where we don't throw _anything_ at breakfast."

The twins start chattering about the other things they'd do living in the monkey house while Izzie finishes a whirlwind clean of her kitchen. The clock over the doorway tells her she's got ten minutes before Anh arrives and helps her finish getting the kids ready for school. Then Izzie has rounds and office hours and consults and another busy day.

"Mom?" Alexis is under her elbow. She hands her mother her breakfast plate, which Izzie slides into the soapy water in the sink. "Can I call Dad? Please? I gotta see if he caught my seagull yet!"

"Oh babe." Izzie half laughs, half sighs. "We don't have time this morning, okay? It's almost time to leave for school and we still need to brush teeth and make beds and a bunch of other stuff."

"It's not _fair,_ " her daughter moans. Her brown eyes gleam with tears. Alexis has never been a morning person; even in utero she was the one bouncing around at 11 PM when her mother was trying to sleep. Most days Izzie has to drag her out of bed with tickles and kisses and a hundred renditions of "Good Day Sunshine" by the Beatles. "I need to tell him the best way to take care of a seagull. They only like to eat French fries and grownups don't know that."

"I know it's hard, sweet," Izzie says. She tries to keep her voice and expression sunny, but she feels – not for the first time – an inkling of how hard bi-regional co-parenting is going to be when both parents have such busy, demanding lives. "We can absolutely give your dad a call tonight when I get home from work, okay? In fact, let's send him a text right now so we can start making a plan for a good time to call."

She gathers up the twins and takes a silly photo of them with their tongues wagging, then sends it to Alex: _Kiddos want to chat with you tonight, let me know what time is good._

This seems to placate Alexis, who is cheerful again. "We get to see Dad really, really soon," she reminds Eli happily. "How many more days, Mom?"

Izzie turns their attention to the big white-board calendar she has hanging down on one wall at kindergartener-level. The word DAD! is scrawled in bright red letters on Monday of next week. "Four more days!" she announces. "We'll cross another day off the board before we go to sleep."

The kids cheer and then, out of nowhere, the doorbell rings. Izzie starts; Anh, who has her own key (not that Izzie ever locks her front door), rarely ever rings the bell anymore. 

"Anh must have her hands full," Izzie says aloud to the kids; the sitter has been known to bring bags of groceries or arts and craft supplies. "Okay, my darlings, please go get started on brushing your teeth, Anh will come help in a minute!"

They dart down the hall towards the bathroom and Izzie goes to let Anh in, her mind already on the case files she knows Rose will have waiting for her on her desk.

"What goodies do you have for us today?" she asks Anh cheerfully as she pulls the door open.

But it's not Anh.

"No goodies," Alex says. He holds up an enormous plastic bag. "But a stuffed seagull the size of a dog and a motorized surfer you can play with in the tub. Oh, and, uh..." He presents his other hand, which is holding a cascade of gorgeous, candy-apple red tulips. "For you."

Izzie just stares at him: Alex Karev, freshly shaven, grinning at her from her front porch. He's so handsome he almost hurts to look at.

His grin falters slightly when she doesn't say anything. "Should I have called?" he asks quietly. "I should have called."

"No," she whispers, and all at once she is grinning wider than she ever has. "You never need to call."

She is seized with a wild urge to kiss him, but contents herself with a quick, tight hug around the neck, taking care not to crush the tulips between their bodies. "You're supposed to be at a conference," she says when they draw apart.

His grin matches hers. "I was bored out of my mind. The other peds guy is there; he'll update me with anything important."

She laughs, giddy as a little girl. "Bailey's going to murder you."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"The kids are going to flip out! They're going to lose their minds! Come in," she insists. She peers past him out into her driveway. "Is Jo getting your things out of the car?"

He shakes his head and follows her into the house. "She's not with me. It was kind of a hassle to change even one flight, and she would have had to fly standby, so we decided she'd just come on our original flight on Monday."

Four days.

She and her children get four whole days alone with Alex.

"Come on," she says, smiling mischievously. "Come surprise them."

He follows her through her house and towards the kids' bathroom. She puts her hand gently on his chest to stop him, then pitches her voice to call, "Kids? Are your teeth clean?"

"Ye-esssss," they chorus, in a way that makes Izzie highly doubt their honesty.

"Great! Don't worry about your beds for a second, I'll take care of them. Come on out here!"

There's a clatter of feet. Eli comes through the door first, and he almost skids as he comes to a halt. His sister is half a second behind him, and she bumps into him as she rounds the corner.

"DAD!" they both scream, like Alex is Santa and Spiderman and the Tooth Fairy all rolled into one.

Izzie fights not to burst into tears as they race across the room and bury themselves into his arms. A few tears slip out anyway, so she busies herself with filling a vase with water for her tulips.

The kids are talking to Alex a mile a minute, and they've already dug into his bag to find their presents, cheering with delight upon finding them. After a few minutes, Eli remembers that his mother is still there.

"Mom!" he yells, full volume. "Dad's here!"

"I know!" she yells back happily. "Isn't it great?!"

"Best day of the week!" Alexis, never one to be left out, hollers.

"Best day _ever!"_ Alex shouts, and the kids burst into hysterical laughter.

They're still laughing when Anh arrives a few minutes later, wide-eyed and beaming in surprise at the scene she finds before her.

"What a wonderful surprise visitor! I guess we're not going to school today?" she asks Izzie, to which the kids cheer.

"No no no," Alex says in mock sternness. "School's important. You gotta go to school." The twins groan and he shakes his head. "C'mon, it's not so bad. It's just, what, half a day? I'll come with Anh to drop you off and pick you up, okay? We'll get burgers for lunch."

"Your dad's right," Izzie chimes in. "C'mon, get your backpacks, quick quick!"

They grumble but gather up their presents and leave the room.

Anh smiles at Alex as he rises and shakes his hand happily. "So good to see you, Dr. Karev."

"Glad to see you, too, Anh. But please call me Alex."

"I'll call the school and get you put on the list of people who can pick them up," Izzie says. "Just to make sure they don't give you any trouble."

"Thanks," Alex says. He looks over at Izzie and asks lightly, "What about you?"

"What about me?"

He glances over his shoulder to make sure the kids can't hear and then gives her another grin. "Well, I mean, kids gotta go to school, but you're a grownup. Can I convince you to play hooky today?"

Her busy schedule evaporates from her mind. She doesn't hesitate even a second.

"Absolutely."

Her heart swells up inside her chest every single time he grins at her. She can't help but grin back; she might never stop smiling again.

Four whole days alone with Alex Karev.


	12. Season 16, Episode 20: You Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex slips into Izzie and the kids' lives as easily as if he's always been with them. Which is wonderful...
> 
> Until...

_"And I wanna help you be better than me._

_There won't be a star in the sky you can't reach._

_I'll wipe off your tears, but I'll let them fall first,_

_And I will be brave when you fall and get hurt._

_You can be you, you don't have to be strong_

_'Cause you belong,_

_You belong."_

* * *

"Okay, now see, _this_ is the tricky part." Alex pauses and looks down at his daughter, who is hovering next to his elbow. "You ready?"

Alexis rubs her hands together in glee. "I'm ready!"

He strokes his chin, playfully thoughtful. "I really think you are. Okay." He hands her a sticky bottle of pure maple syrup. "Now: the perfect pour gets syrup in _every hole_ in the waffle. They're called syrup traps for a reason: you want to fill them up. Let's see you do it."

With a surgical concentration, Alexis takes the syrup and carefully drizzles a thick, gummy stream over the waffle on the plate in front of her. When she's done, she looks up at her dad expectantly.

"You sure you haven't done this before?!" he asks her. He crosses his arms over his chest and gives her a suspicious look.

"No!" She presses a little hand over her heart. "Mom never lets me pour the syrup because she says I am a sugar monster." She looks around furtively before she confesses. "Also, Mom does not make very good waffles. We usually just have scrambled eggs."

He stifles a laugh. "Well, she's been missing out. You're clearly a natural. Try your brother's waffle next."

They finish all four plates of waffles just as Izzie and Eli come in through the kitchen door, the one that leads out to the chicken yard. Eli has his arms banded around a basket of peaches that must weigh as much as he does, which he gingerly sits on the ground before toeing off his battered light-up sneakers. He glances eagerly at the kitchen table and his face falls. "Awww," he says. "You guys already did the syrup! I wanted to do one!"

Alex holds up a hand. "Don't worry, buddy, I've got you covered." He produces a bowl of fresh whipped cream with a flourish. "You are in charge of whipped cream."

Eli cheers and rushes to the table, where his father hands him a large spoon with the instruction to "go nuts!"

"Alex! The sugar crash that happens in a few hours is going to be monumental," Izzie laughs. She takes the peaches up off the floor and moves over to the sink, where she dumps them in a colander.

He shrugs and gives her a lopsided grin. "That just means a really good nap on the couch later." He wanders over to the sink and plucks one of the peaches out of the colander.

"Want me to wash it first?" she asks him, turning the water on with a tap of her wrist.

Alex shakes his head and takes a huge bite. "I like them fresh off the tree," he says. "Tastes like sunshine."

Izzie smirks at him and reaches out to wipe a smear of peach juice off his chin. The pad of her thumb rasps against his five-o'clock shadow. "You've got some sunshine on your face there, Dr. Karev."

They grin at each other for a moment. Alex wants to frame her in his memory forever: her hair messy and lose around her face, no makeup, a gentle pink flush coming up in her cheeks when she realizes that he's studying her. Before he can tell himself to stop, he reaches out and threads a lock of her hair through his fingers. He gives it a gentle tug, which broadens her smile.

"You _guys._ " They look back at the table to where their children are glaring at them impatiently. "Can we please get started?" Eli asks, as prim as a debutante. "The waffles are getting cold."

"Sorry, sorry," Izzie says. Alex reluctantly lets go of the silky lock of hair. She turns off the water and grabs a towel to dry off the peaches. She gathers four of them up and carries them to the table. "Let's eat!"

He shouldn't have touched her. He knows that. But the longer he's with her, the harder it becomes not to find any excuse to do so.

Maybe it should bother him, how simple all this has been – how easily he's been able to slide into Izzie's family routine, as if he's always been a part of it. At the very least it should make him wonder. But he doesn't want to get in his head about it. All he wants is to be in the moment, to soak up everything about his children and their mother and their lives in Kansas.

He's gotten to see the kids' school and their favorite playground and the local bookstore where the proprietor and staff know the kids and Izzie by name. He's gotten to give them baths and help them make their beds and praise them when they eat all their vegetables at dinner - all the parenting things his own parents were unwilling or unable to do. He's tucked them in and read them stories and every morning after he leaves his hotel to drive over to the farm, he stops and buys Izzie another bouquet of flowers, because the kids are perfect and stubborn and exhausting and flowers are the very least she deserves.

"So listen," she says a while later as they clear the breakfast dishes. "I got a page earlier. I've got a thyroid patient that's scheduled for surgery on Monday morning – lobectomy and isthmectomy – but his stats are getting a little wonky. I was thinking it's probably better to take care of it this afternoon so I can send the specimen to pathology and see if I need to do a total thyroidectomy."

"Cool," he says, taking a sticky plate from her and rubbing it down with a soapy dish wand. "You want to take off and let me watch them until you're home? I've been wanting to take them to a movie or something. The new Pixar's probably still in theaters. We can move their booster seats into my car."

"Well," she says, a touch of hesitation in her voice. "I actually wanted to know if you want to scrub in with me."

"Seriously? You've got a peds patient?"

Izzie shakes her head. "No, the patient's forty-two. I just... thought it might be, I dunno, fun."

"You don't have to convince me. I'd love to see you work," he says. He gets a little thrill at the way her eyes light up.

"Great! I can introduce you around too, start laying the groundwork to see what we can do about getting you on staff if you decide to move out," she says. She shakes her head slightly and adds, "And – and Jo, of course."

Of course.

Izzie continues, "Since it's the weekend I don't know if any of the bigwigs will be around, but if not, you can still meet some other folks." She beams at him. "I'll call Anh, and as soon as she comes over, we can hit the road."

"Be honest," Alex says, and she tilts her head curiously. He drops his voice. "You just want to be gone when that sugar crash you were talking about hits."

She throws her head back and laughs her big, open-throat laugh. He almost reaches out again, wanting to twist his fingers through the blond curls spilling down her back, but this time he stops himself at the last minute.

"Guilty," she says through her laughter.

"Yeah, yeah. I know you, Stevens."

Her eyes are still twinkling as she goes to find her phone. "I know you do."

* * *

At first, she thinks it might be nerve-wracking to have Alex in the OR with her. But she's pleased to discover that it's perfectly normal, even enjoyable. They talk throughout the whole procedure, exchanging war stories about their most harrowing surgeries. She tells him she has no idea how he keeps his cool during a peds emergency. 

"I couldn't do it," she marvels as they start to close.

"Sure you could," he assures her. "You just do what needs to be done. You're tougher than you think." He carefully bags the lobe and the isthmus and hands it to a scrub nurse to take down to pathology. "I don't know how _you_ do oncology. It's so relentless. Even when you do everything right... cancer doesn't care."

She glances up to see his eyes on her, warm and sad. Memories of her own cancer – the constant fear, the pain, the loss – crowd into her brain. She remembers how he tended to her at her sickest, how he held her hand and sponged her forehead and kissed her head when she lost all her hair. Not for the first time, she says a small, secret prayer of thanks for this person who loved her so well when she was so sick. Even in all the years they were apart, all the years she was angry at him and hurt by him, she has never forgotten the way he loved her then.

"You're right," she answers. "It _is_ relentless. That's why it's so satisfying when you hunt it down and kick its ass."

His eyes crinkle up as he grins behind his mask. "Damn right."

She winks at him. "C'mon. We're done. Let's go show you off around here."

They scrub out together, still chatting away, and make their way up to the pediatric wing. Alex glances around appraisingly while Izzie drops in at the nursing staff desk to see if she can track down Regina Lisette, their head of peds.

"Looks like she's not in today, not surprising," she says when she comes back to Alex's side.

"It's not a big deal. I made an appointment with her and your chief of surgery this week. I'll just come in then."

They stroll down the halls together, Izzie giving him some stats about the department, their elbows and hips and hands occasionally brushing. Each contact sends a shiver of adrenaline through Izzie's body. It's like being sixteen again. 

"I know it's not Grey-Sloan," she says after they've completed their circuit. She presses the second-floor button on the elevator to take him back to the general surgery wing. "But I know there's going to be an opening soon... their most tenured attending is retiring in the fall. Plus, I have no doubt that with someone like you on staff, the department couldn't help but grow."

He gives her a half-smile as they step into the elevator. "You have to say that."

"Maybe. I still think it, though, for whatever it's worth."

"It's worth a lot, actually. At least to me."

The doors to the elevator slide shut and they start their descent. Izzie becomes immediately, intimately aware of how close they are standing to each other, their bodies turned to face each other rather than the door, so close she can count Alex's smattering of freckles. They're so close she can smell the waxy hotel soap on Alex's skin and the industrial strength detergent Shawnee County uses on their scrubs. For an electric moment she imagines herself leaning forward and burying her face in the skin of his neck, breathing in the natural scent of his hair and skin underneath. Immediately her cheeks go red hot.

"Iz," Alex says softly.

"Mhm?"

"We're here."

"Oh!"

He's right; the doors have opened on the second floor, where a nurse is waiting for them to leave the elevator, her curious gaze fixed upon them.

"Sorry," Izzie stammers as they leave the elevator.

"You okay?" Alex asks her.

"Yeah. Yeah, I—" She looks up and is flooded with an immediate sense of relief when she sees Dylan coming down the hall towards them. "Dylan! Hey!"

Her friend pauses and looks at her, befuddled at her shouted greeting. "Hey yourself," he greets her when he's within a reasonable distance. He turns a bright smile to Alex and says, "Dylan Rees, glad to meet you."

Alex, who has been looking at Izzie from the corner of his eye in a vaguely guarded way, turns his attention back to Dylan and shakes his hand. "Alex Karev."

"Dylan, this is the kids'... this is my... Alex!" Izzie finally manages. "This is Alex! He's here early!"

"Oh, sure," he answers. The confusion clears from his face as he takes in Alex with new eyes. "Glad to finally meet you. Great kids you've got."

"They are." Alex's voice, usually drenched with warmth when he talks about the kids, has gone decidedly detached.

Izzie clears her throat and says to Dylan, "I'm just... giving Alex the grand tour. He's got a meeting with Regina this week about any openings in peds." She gets a brilliant flash of inspiration and says, "Oh, I've actually been meaning to ask you... Alex's, um, wife, is a general surgery fellow at their current hospital. It'd be great if you could show her around, give her kind of the lay of the land about our general department... If you've got time this week, that is."

"No need to go out of your way," Alex says coolly. "She's got an appointment set up to talk with your chief of surgery the same day I do."

The look on Dylan's face makes Izzie wonder if he had been planning on refusing anyway, but his voice is perfectly friendly when he says, "It's not out of my way. I'd be happy to talk with your wife when she gets into town."

Alex's reserve thaws a tiny bit. "Thanks. We appreciate it."

"Yeah, we absolutely do," Izzie chimes in.

Dylan gives her a sharp look; Izzie's face goes hot again when she realizes that Alex was almost certainly talking about himself and Jo.

"What do you say, Izzie?" Alex asks, looking at his watch pointedly. "Want to go grab a late lunch before we head back to the farm?"

"Yeah, sure," Izzie says.

"Great," he answers. "Let me hit the head real fast and we can grab our things and go."

"Sounds good." Izzie points him down the hall and he walks off briskly.

As soon as Alex is out of earshot, Dylan rounds on her. "Are you kidding me?" he asks in an intense undertone.

She shifts uncomfortably. "What?" she asks, though she knows exactly what he's going to say.

"They're still talking about moving out here?"

"Well... yeah. I mean... I told him I couldn't move to Seattle. I couldn't tell him that they can't move out here. That's not... It's not my place to tell him he can't come be near his children."

He drops his voice even lower. "Whatever happened to not wanting to have to watch him be in love with anyone else? Suddenly you're cool with watching that happen in your personal life _and_ at work?"

"It's not..." She sighs. "You haven't seen him the past few days, Dylan. You haven't seen the kids." She glances nervously down the hall; Alex has yet to reappear. "They're all so... happy. I can't... I can't keep that from them, even if it.... They deserve to be happy."

Dylan softens slightly. "So do you, kid," he tells her.

Down the hall, Alex catches her eye as he leaves the restroom and moves back towards them. His eyes on her still make her light up like a Christmas tree; she wonders if they always will.

"I will be," she tells Dylan quietly. "If they are, I will be."

She can tell he doesn't believe her. But he's a good friend, so he reaches out and squeezes her hand anyway. "Okay then. You know what you're doing."

She squeezes back.

"Hey, nice to meet you, Alex," Dylan says when Alex joins them again. He drops Izzie's hand to shake Alex's. "Good luck next week."

"Thanks."

There's an uncomfortable silence between them as Dylan gives a little wave and walks off down the hall.

Izzie turns a smile to Alex. He doesn't smile back. "Lunch?" she offers. "I'm buying."

Finally the corner of his mouth tugs up. "Okay. You're buying."

* * *

It's stupid. He's being stupid.

He should be enjoying his children, who are currently tucked up against him on Izzie's couch, listening raptly as he reads _Olivia's Doctor Adventures_ aloud _._ The twins are fresh from the tub and smell sleepy and sweet; their mother is sitting in a chair off to the side, a mug of hot tea in her hands, her face full of love as she watches them. There's a fire in the grate, even though it's a mild night, and the soft amber light is flickering over all of them. It's a perfect evening.

But Alex can't stay in the moment. He's been distracted since they got home from the hospital.

He's jealous.

He shouldn't be. He has no claim on Izzie, no say about who she sees, romantically or otherwise. And he's _married_ , goddamnit. He has no right, no reason to be jealous.

But he is. Jealous of anyone who holds her hand. Jealous of anyone who talks to her in a low voice, standing close enough to feel the heat from her body. Jealous of the people who have been making her smile in the long years they've been apart.

"Dad?"

He snaps to attention and glances down at Alexis. "Sorry, kiddo. What is it?"

"You forgot to say, 'The End,'" she reminds him, pointing a little finger at the page.

He looks back at the book. They've reached the last page and he didn't even realize it.

"My mistake. 'The end.'"

"Okay, sweets," Izzie says, swinging her legs off the chair. "Time to say goodnight."

"Can Dad tuck us in?" Eli asks as Izzie plucks him off the couch and into her arms.

She balances him on her hip and affects an offended expression. "What, is he better at it than I am?!" she teases, nuzzling Eli's cheek with her nose.

"Mom," Eli answers seriously, putting his dimpled hands on either side of her face. "You're still great. I'm just using my good manners."

They all laugh at that.

"Yes, Dad can put you to bed," Izzie answers, sliding Eli down her hip and onto the ground. She presses a kiss onto the crown of his head, then leans over and brushes one over Alexis's upturned face. "Good night, my loves. Sweet dreams."

Alexis latches on to Alex's hand as the three of them walk down the hall to the kids' shared bedroom. It's an oasis of chalkboard paint and bright patchwork fabric, chests full of Legos and a mountain of stuffed animals. As he does every time he enters, Alex feels his heart throb with joy when he sees a framed photo of him and the kids in Seattle, printed and framed on the nightstand next to one of them with their mom.

"Okay," he says with a brisk clap of his hands. "Hop into bed while I warm up my tucking-in hands!"

He rubs them together furiously and the twins, giggling, scramble into their beds. Alex starts with Eli, drawing the sea-creature printed comforter up around his son's sleepy body, smoothing it around the contours of his torso. He dusts a hand over Eli's head and gives him a kiss. "Night, kiddo."

Then he turns to Alexis, smiling as he takes in the giggling lump under the covers: she's hidden herself completely beneath the unicorn fabric. He peels back the top of the blanket to expose her face, then tucks her in the rest of the way. "Good dreams only, okay?" he tells her.

"Good dreams only," she echoes. "Love you, Dad."

His throat goes tight. "Love you back."

He leans over and kisses her hair, then rises to leave. Eli has already drifted off. Alex turns off the overhead light and lingers in the doorway for a moment, making sure the carousel nightlight in the corner flickers to life before he walks out and shuts the door.

He goes back to the living room to report out to Izzie, but she's no longer in the cozy armchair. He glances around the room and finds her stretched out on the couch, her head nestled on an overstuffed arm, hair spilling everywhere, eyes closed.

Warmth spreads through his chest. He plucks a pale pink chenille throw off the back of the couch and gently drapes it over her.

Her eyes fly open. "Sorry!" she gasps, struggling to sit up. "I'm – I'm not asleep!"

"Sure," he says wryly. He crouches down and pulls the blanket back up around her. "It's not like you performed surgery today and then came home and chased two little tornadoes around until they were too tired to go on. No reason at all you might be tired."

"No," she insists. "I'm really not." She fumbles for the remote on the end table, holding it up like a prize. "You want to watch a movie?" She hesitates. "Unless you need to go back to your hotel?"

He sits back on his heels and looks up at her, just for a minute. He can still feel the prickles of jealousy at the back of his mind, and for a second, he wants to interrogate her about that guy, Dylan, from the hospital.

But when he takes her in, all softly sleepy and relaxed, the feeling disappears. It occurs to him that they don't have very much time like this left, time to be quiet and easy. Jo is arriving Monday afternoon, and then it'll be all interviews and looking at houses and making huge, life-altering decisions. He doesn't want to waste these last few, quiet hours with Izzie feeling pissed off: he's starting to realize how much he's going to miss them.

"I don't want to watch a movie," he answers.

Disappointment fills her face. "Okay. Let me walk you out."

He shakes his head. "I don't want to go back to my hotel, either."

Before he can talk himself out of it, he stands up and tucks his hand under her legs. He lifts her legs slightly and sits down on the couch, placing her feet down in his lap. He rests one of his hands on her slender ankle.

"I just want to stay with you for a while," he says. "Just us. Okay?"

Something rich and beautiful and complex spreads over her face when she looks at him. "Okay."

And then they talk, the way they have every night since he's come to Kansas. The hours slip away from them, and they make no move to catch them.

"I feel like I need to thank you again," he says somewhere around midnight. "For them. For this. I haven't been this happy in... a long time."

Izzie gives him a slow, drowsy smile. She's fading fast. "You don't."

"I do."

"There's no need," she insists. She sits up a little straighter and reaches out to stroke his shoulder, smoothing the fabric of his shirt. "They've been so happy to have you here, to have you in their world. Anything that makes them that happy erases any need I might have to be thanked." She slides her hand down and squeezes his wrist. "And it's made me happy too."

"Good."

She leans in and brushes her lips over his cheek. "Good."

She's about to pull back; everything in his body begs him not to let her move away.

So he doesn't stop himself. His hands reach up and cup her face. His fingers slide around to spread into her hair, the way he's been desperate to do since he touched her hair that morning. He watches her pupils dilate, her eyelashes sweep down as her eyes close in pleasure.

He can't help it: he brushes his nose against hers. He kisses one eyelid, then the other. He wants to trail his mouth down her face, to her neck, to the hollow point at her throat where her pulse is jumping, over her shoulders and arms, over her stomach and her hips and everywhere else. He wants to map her whole body with his mouth.

He wants it more than he's ever wanted anything else. It scares him more than anything else ever has.

But before the fear takes hold, before it decimates him completely, Izzie tilts her head to graze her mouth over his chin, gentler than a breeze. Her touch silences everything else but his want for her. The only thing he knows in that moment is that he never wants to stop touching her.

"Stay," she murmurs.

He hesitates. It is everything he wants. It is everything he can't do.

The pause breaks the spell. Izzie's eyes fly open and for a split second they look into each other's eyes. He can see everything beautiful and ancient and blooming and terrifying between them with perfect, crystalline clarity.

She eases back a fraction of an inch. He drops his hands. They both pretend not to see the disappointment on each other's face.

"Just on the couch," she says, clearing her throat to ease the huskiness from her voice. "It's late, you know? Just crash here."

"You sure?" he asks.

He shouldn't even entertain the thought of staying. He should get his ass up and into his car and then he should probably drive past his hotel and out of the state and just keep driving until he gets to Washington.

But he doesn't.

"Yeah," she answers. She swings her legs back over the side of the couch and stands up. "I'm sure."

He nods. "Okay."

"You want an extra pillow or anything? Another blanket?"

"Nah. I'm good here."

"Okay."

There's a sliver of a moment where he thinks she'll join him on the couch again, but she merely reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. "Good night."

"Good night."

He watches her walk down the hallway to her room. When he hears the door click shut, he flops back onto the couch and lets out a long-held breath.

Then he spends the rest of the night awake, listing and repeating all the reasons he should not walk down the hall and join Izzie in her bed. 


	13. Season 16, Episode 21: Now or Never Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is avoiding Izzie.

_"Because the last time I let myself feel this way_

_It was a long, long time ago._

_And now we get so scared, and we get so scared_

_To be nowhere left alone._

_Because it's now or never now_

_It's now or never now, now, now..."_

* * *

The eternal struggle in Izzie Stevens' house is finding the last place she left her keys. She has dumped out the entire contents of her purse and the portfolio where she keeps the files she brings home, turned over Eli and Alexis's room, and started to dig through her makeup bag when Anh rushes into her bathroom, waving the keyring victoriously over her head.

"Oh thank God," Izzie half-laughs. "Where were they?"

"Fruit bowl," Anh answers.

"Because of course they were!"

The two women walk down the hall to where the twins are waiting less-than-patiently, lunchboxes in hand, backpacks on shoulders. Izzie sweeps them up in a hug and kisses them both on their cheeks.

"Have a great day at school, okay?" she tells them, picking a stray toast crumb off of Eli's shirt. "I'll be home around dinnertime."

"Mom, wait." Alexis holds up her hand before Anh can shepherd them out the door. "Is Dad going to come back?"

Izzie's heart clenches, but she forces a casual smile to her face. "Of course he is! What did he tell you on the phone last night?" she asks.

"That he would come over after school."

"And?" Izzie prompts, tucking a strand of hair behind her daughter's ear.

"And that we could order pizza for dinner," Eli chimes in.

"And that he would stay and put you to bed, right?" Izzie reminds them.

Alexis huffs. "Right," she says, but her tone is sulky. She fiddles with her purple and orange lunchbox for a minute before she rushes to add, "We haven't seen him in a really long time! Are you sure he's going to come?"

Izzie glances over to Anh, who spreads her hands helplessly and nods. _Ah,_ she thinks, reading the sign. _So this has come up already this morning._

She crouches down to eye level with her daughter, reaching out to take both twins' hands. "You saw him two days ago at bedtime," she reminds them gently. "And he FaceTimed you during breakfast yesterday."

"But then he didn't come over _at all_ yesterday," Alexis protests.

Eli doesn't speak, but he studies his mother's face with clever, careful eyes as he waits for her to respond.

Izzie proceeds gently. "I know how you feel. We had a really fun weekend all together, and now he's only coming over for a little bit at a time. That's not really the same as having him here with us all day, is it?" she asks them.

They shake their heads.

"But you know," she goes on, squeezing their hands, "your dad is trying to make it so he can see you a lot more often... and unfortunately that means doing a lot of boring grownup stuff, like going to meetings and looking at houses and talking to a bunch of people. He's got to do that now so hopefully he can spend a lot more time with you really soon. And that's going to be so, so awesome, right?"

"Right!"

"So let's just give Dad some time to take care of all his grownup stuff, okay? Okay?" she prompts when they don't answer.

"Okay," they chorus.

Izzie gives them another kiss. "Your dad loves you and he thinks you're the coolest," she reminds them. "And I think you're pretty cool too."

Anh interjects gently. "Okay, kids, we have to get to school." She gathers them to her gently and gives Izzie a warm wink.

"Have a great day," Izzie repeats and waves to them as they shuffle down the driveway into Anh's car. She keeps waving until they've left the driveway, then closes the door, resting her forehead against it with a huge sigh.

Alex is avoiding her.

Not the kids: she knows with the most absolute certainty that no matter what's going on between them, he would never take it out on their children. But ever since that night on the couch... He's still been loving and attentive and gentle with the twins, but he's definitely holding back from Izzie. He's not unkind. He's not removed. But he's... different.

She hates it.

It's because of that night. It has to be. Sure, she knows there are other things going on – Jo Karev has had to push back her flight because of a medical emergency with Richard Webber that requires all the Grey Sloan staff to be on hand – but she also knows Alex enough to know that night has got to be weighing on him. And though she doesn't exactly blame herself – Izzie is not so blind to interpersonal cues to think that Alex wasn't as wrapped up in the tender, romantic moments that passed between them as she was – she can't help but feel responsible for this shift in his behavior.

Izzie sighs and straightens up. No time to think about that now.

She goes back into her room where she has dumped out her bags on the bed. She carefully puts everything back where it belongs, gives her hair one last run-through with her comb, then gathers everything up and heads for the front door to go to work.

She steps out onto her porch and immediately collides with Alex.

"Oh!" She startles and drops her keys.

His hand shoots out, lightning-fast with surgeon's reflexes, and catches the keys mid-air. "Easy," he says, handing them back to her. "It's just me."

"Hey," she greets him breathily. "What're you doing here? I thought you had an appointment to look at a house?"

"Yeah." He shrugs. "The realtor called, said the family had to reschedule until this afternoon." He looks over her shoulders into the house. "Anyway, I thought I'd come say hey to the kids before they went to school."

"Oh." She smiles sadly. "You actually just missed them."

Alex sighs and looks down at his watch. "Yeah... Kinda thought that I might. Worth a try, though."

They stand there for a moment. She tries to read his face; his mouth seems tight, and he keeps flexing the fingers on his left hand, open and closed.

"Do you... want to come in?" she tries.

"Don't you have to go to work?"

She stretches a confident, cocky smile over her face. "I'm a rock star," she jokes. "They kind of let me do whatever I want."

The joke doesn't work. Alex, face still impassive, shakes his head. "It's no big deal, really. Don't let me keep you."

He turns to leave. This time it's Izzie whose hand shoots out reflexively. She grips his palm.

"Alex."

He glances back at her.

"Come on." She drops her voice lower. "Come in here and talk to me. Please?"

He folds his fingers around hers. "Yeah... yeah, I want to talk."

He follows her back inside, into the kitchen where she pours him the last cup of coffee from the pot. He takes a long sip of it, his eyes focused down on the counter top.

Izzie's tempted to let him speak first, but seeing him so clearly struggling is too hard. She takes a step towards him.

"I'm sorry," she says finally. "About... about the other night."

Alex's head jerks up. There's surprised hurt written all over his face, Izzie marvels.

"Are you really sorry?" he asks in a low voice.

She doesn't answer.

He watches her expression closely. "Good," he says, correctly interpreting her silence. "Because I'm not. And you shouldn't be." He takes another sip of his coffee.

"Then what..." She crosses her arms hard over her chest. "Why are you upset with me, then?"

"I'm not sorry," Alex says again. He puts down his coffee cup and steps over to her. He reaches up and puts his hand on her neck, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. Izzie's heart takes flight. "And I'm not upset... not at you."

The relief that courses through her is intense. But then...

"You're mad at yourself?" she guesses.

"At the things I want." His gaze drops down to her lips. "At how much I want them."

She can't help herself. "Like?" she asks.

"Like a night with you." He half-smiles. "More than a night, if I'm honest."

His eyes on hers are so intense they burn. She never wants to look away, but too soon he moves, his hand lingering on her face for a moment as he steps back from her.

"I just... I didn't think I was that guy anymore. The guy who..." He doesn't finish his sentence.

"Hey." She takes his face in her hands, makes him look at her again. "What you feel... I'm not saying it doesn't matter. It matters. But what you do with what you feel, Alex... that matters more. And you haven't done anything wrong."

And it's the hardest thing to do, but she steps back from him, far enough away that she couldn't reach him if she wanted to.

"You're a good man, Alex," she tells him. He makes a skeptical face and she holds up her hand briskly. "Shut up. No. You're a good man: full stop."

"I hear you," he says, but she knows he doesn't buy it.

"Do you? I'm not sure." She folds her arms. "Look, what's between us is... complicated and messy. There's a lot of history involved, and your children, and that makes things hard. But you have been honest and kind with both me and... and everyone else... from the very beginning. You've tried to do what's best." She tilts her head down to make sure he is looking her in the eye. "That's something the Alex Karev I met at Seattle Grace wouldn't have been capable of."

He shrugs, but she can tell he's listening.

"So just... just give yourself a freakin' break. You're doing your very damn best, and you are doing it well."

He sighs and looks up at the ceiling. "I love my wife," he says finally.

Something gossamer and fragile deep inside Izzie's heart snaps.

When she's certain she can speak without sobbing, she tells him, "I know you do."

But when he looks at her, he doesn't look like a man who is thinking about the wife who isn't there. He still looks like the man who would give anything to spend a night with her.

"I love my wife," Alex repeats, "but God, Izzie, you—"

The phone in his pocket buzzes. He fishes it out and glances at the screen. "785 area code," he says. "Sorry. Let me just..."

He lifts the phone to his ear. "Alex Karev," he answers. Izzie can hear a familiar cadence on the other end of the phone. "Yeah, I'm actually free this morning," he answers. "Sure... Yes, I'll be there shortly. Thank you."

He hangs up and gives Izzie a smile, a small one, but true. "That was Regina Lisette's assistant. She wants me to come back in. Guess the interview on Monday went well."

Izzie has a choice to make. She could choose what her heart is begging her to choose, or she could choose what's right.

And she loves Alex so much, she chooses what's right.

"Well," she says with a brightness she doesn't feel, "you'd better not keep her waiting." Once more she grabs her keys. "I'll head that way myself."

But before they can leave, he catches her hand.

"Izzie," he says, low and serious again. There's pain on his face. "I—"

Love floods her, commingled with grief.

_You have to do your best too,_ she reminds herself.

"Shut up," she says again, and it makes him smile.

When she slides her hand away from his, it feels like the end of something.

She walks to her car quickly so he won't notice her tears.

* * *

Alex likes Regina Lisette. She has an unflappable wryness about her that reminds him a lot of Mer, and like Mer, she has a sharpness in her green eyes that makes him think crossing her would be a very bad idea indeed.

"I appreciate you coming back on such short notice," she tells him after they've shaken hands and settled in at her desk.

"Anytime."

She sits back and gives him a thorough, searching look. "I like you," she tells him finally. "And your recommendations are unrivaled." She taps a folder on her desk. "I had to call Arizona Robbins after I received her letter to make sure she wasn't just blowing smoke."

"I'm flattered," he replies.

"What I don't know is this." She tents her fingers. "Why are you, co-chief of your department in a hospital like Grey Sloan, willing to take a staff attending job at Shawnee County?" She holds up one artistic finger to keep him from interrupting. "I have done a lot of development in this department, and we are miles away from where we were when I began here," she goes on. "But we simply do not have the type of facility you're accustomed to." She cocks her head, her rimless glasses flashing. "So what's the appeal for you?"

Alex chooses his words carefully before he answers. "I have personal reasons," he says finally. "Those are my own, and I'm sure that if you hire me you will hear about them. But more than that..." He spreads his hands in a shrug. "I have a long history of taking things that aren't at their best and making them better. I was doing it at Pacific North before the Catherine Fox foundation purchased them, and I was doing it well. I can continue that here."

Dr. Lisette takes off her glasses. "How invested are you in this opportunity, Dr. Karev?" She glances at a blotter in front of her. "I know your wife was making inquiries in our general surgery department, until those were... postponed."

He swears inwardly. He knows that they need all hands on deck at Grey Sloan – hell, he's been staying up late every night looking into anything that might cause a sudden onset of neurological impairment in a man Richard's age – but he can't help but curse the timing.

"Deeply invested," he answers.

"Good." She rises from her desk and walks to the window. "I know you're aware that Dr. Washington is retiring in the fall," she says without looking at him. "But ultimately I don't think you're a good fit for his position."

Panic floods him. He starts to push out of his chair. "Please—"

"Ultimately," she interrupts, "I'd prefer someone like you in a position like mine."

Alex stops short.

"You want to retire too," he says slowly.

Dr. Lisette finally turns back to face him. "I've already told my wife I would," she admits. "And she told our daughters, and now I have to go through with it." She laughs dryly. "But though I have plenty of doctors already on staff who could do my job admirably, I want to leave knowing that my department will keep moving forward." She lifts her chin at him, lofty and challenging. "You've talked a good game about doing just that. I'm almost convinced."

He can't help but laugh at that. "Almost?" he asks.

"Well. We've only just met. I'm not a quick sell on most people."

He grins. "Me neither."

"What do you say?" she asks. "Are you in?"

He wants to say yes; he wants to shout it. This is more than he possibly could have hoped.

But he knows he can't say yes without talking to Jo.

"I absolutely want to say yes," he says. "And I intend to. But I need to wait to speak with my wife. Please," he rushes when he notices Dr. Lisette's hesitation. "I can call her as soon as we finish here."

After what feels like an eternity, she nods. "Yes. Of course. Take the day. Please let me know as soon as you can."

They shake hands again. Alex leaves her office feeling like he could fly.

_This is going to work_ , he thinks. _It's actually going to work out!_

But when he tries to call Jo, it goes straight to voicemail: not once but five times.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he mutters to himself. He's pacing through the Shawnee County waiting room, nearly as anxious as the families surrounding him. He resists the urge to throw his phone out into the revolving door.

He finally has it: a chance to be with Eli and Alexis, to be their dad, full time. It's close enough to touch. All he has to do is grab it.

He dials Jo again.

This time, she answers.

"Alex?"

"Jo!" he says. "I need to—"

"Where are you?" she interrupts. "I—"

"I'm at the hospital. At Shawnee County. Listen, I—"

"Alex, I'm here too! I'm on my way inside."

And when he glances up, there she is: his wife, her phone pressed against her ear, walking through the front doors. 

For a minute she almost doesn't seem real. 

"You're here!" He shakes his head as she walks up to him. "When did you change your flight?" A sinking sensation grips him. "Is Richard—"

"He's fine!" Jo rushes to reassure him. "He's better than fine. We figured it out! Well. DeLuca did. But it wasn't dementia, Alex, it wasn't Alzheimer's, it wasn't anything neurological at all! He had _cobalt poisoning._ From a hip replacement. He's going to be fine. I left for the airport the minute he woke up"

Relief nearly knocks him off his feet. "That's amazing!"

"It is, it really is. It's... God, it's a one in a million save." She grips both of his hands. "I wish you could have been there, Alex. You _should_ have been there."

Alex starts to speak, eager to tell her about Regina Lisette and her job offer for him, but comes up short when he sees Jo's face. Something in her eyes spells bad news. "What is it?" he asks.

Jo takes a deep breath. "You should have been there, Alex. With those people, that team. I've never seen anything like it, all of us working so hard, day and night, trying to save him. And when we did..." She shakes her head. "I should have caught it, Alex. It should have been me."

He opens his mouth, but she interrupts him again. "I loved my ortho rotation with Callie. I'm an excellent researcher. And I just... missed it. And I can't help but think it's because the whole time I was trying to find the solution, I was distracted by... all of this. The idea of moving, trying to find a new job, everything. I wasn't on my game. I missed the one in a million save because I was distracted."

The relief is gone, replaced by a slow-creeping dread.

"Jo. What are you telling me?"

"Alex... I don't want to move here. I don't want this job. I think we need to stay in Seattle."


	14. Season 16, Episode 22: Say Something Loving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Alex to make a decision.

_"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know_ _  
I don't know what this is, but it doesn't feel wrong.  
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know  
I don't know what this is, but it doesn't feel wrong."_

* * *

They don't fight in earnest until they get back to the hotel. They're adults, after all; they have the composure not to throw down in the middle of a hospital lobby. So when the incredulity and anger ebb enough that he can form sentences again, Alex motions for Jo to follow him into the parking lot. He gets into his rental and Jo gets into hers and she follows him back to the hotel.

As they head for the elevator, she tries to speak to him once. It's all Alex can do to hold up a single finger in response: _just wait._

He opens the door quietly, even gingerly, like there's a sleeping baby in the next room. He lets Jo enter before him then closes the door behind them. Jo perches on the bed, her face turned up to his expectantly.

"Alex—"

But he's not ready yet. He holds up one finger again, pulls a bottle of water out of the mini fridge. He quickly reconsiders and pulls out the fifth of bourbon he's been nursing on his long nights trying to diagnose Richard. He tosses Jo the bottle of water, then finds hotel-issued paper cup and pours himself three fingers of bourbon.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low. Matter-of-fact.

"You just called my children a distraction."

Jo presses her fingers hard into her eyes. "Can we just – _that's_ what you're mad about? My choice of words?" she demands.

"You feel... distracted by the fact that I'm trying to do what's right for my kids. By the fact that I am trying to make it so I can be in their lives. It's making it hard for you to focus on things that you need to get done."

She stands up and reaches out to grab his hand, but Alex takes a step and a half back from her. He starts to pace up and down the length of the hotel room. Back and forth. Back and forth.

"You know that's not what I meant. You know I think the twins are wonderful. That's not what this is about."

"But you said it."

_All at once he's six, sitting on the floor in his parents' bedroom. Last week Helen buried herself in her comforter, pulled it all the way up to her chin; she hasn't left her bed since. Whenever Alex enters her room, he finds her counting in a low, steady voice._

_Today he asks her to help him get the cereal down from the shelf; it's been a few days since anyone has given him anything to eat._

_"Go away. Go away! Damn it, damn it, Alex." She starts crying. "You interr—now I can't—I have to start all over again!" She pushes up on her elbows and glares at him. "Just go away and STOP DISTRACTING ME."_

He comes back to himself when he realizes Jo is speaking to him.

"Your kids aren't a distraction. But this—" She sweeps a hand through the air to indicate the entire situation. "The ex-wife and the family you never knew about and trying to take all that mess and turn it into some picture-perfect family in freakin' Kansas, yes, Alex, that's _distracting._ How could it not be? It's a huge thing. It's eating up all my attention and focus and my sleep."

He keeps pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth. It's the only thing keeping the scream building in his chest from escaping.

"So what?" he asks when he can speak without shouting. "You want us to stay in Seattle. Take the kids for two weeks every summer? Maybe a month? Send them cards and call them on FaceTime for the rest of the year, like I'm some weirdo relative they've only met twice and not _their dad?_ So you can get your focus back? _"_

"Alex, come on," Jo says. Her voice is rising. "I want to stay in Seattle because the work that's going on there is work I want to be a part of. The community there is one I want to be a part of. Don't you want that too?"

"I want my kids more!" The shout finally escapes his throat. "I want to help them with homework and be there when they get on the bus in the morning and _be with them._ I missed out on all that stuff – and so did you! How are you not understanding that I can't miss out on it now that it's about _my_ kids?"

"Listen to you! Do you even hear yourself?" She's mad too now, and it feels deeply satisfying. Finally: someone should be as pissed off as he is. "Of course I get that. I'm on your side. But I'm on my side too, Alex, and my life is in Seattle. Great doctors don't happen in a vacuum! I want the facility and the research and the team that can help me become great. I want what you had!"

Alex links his hands together at the back of his neck, trying desperately to anchor himself in this moment, this last moment of any kind of calm. "We can't have both," he finally says. "I can't live in Seattle and be the kind of dad I want to be to my kids in Kansas. I'm good at a lot of things, Jo, but I'm not that good."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "So tell Izzie that. Tell her she has to move back."

"I asked. She can't."

"She _won't,"_ Jo corrects him. "She could very easily move. But she won't."

Heat, white and flickering and consuming, starts building up the back of his neck. "It's not that easy."

"Yes, it is. If she wants them to be in your life, she can make it happen." Jo rocks back on her heels, glaring at him. "But since she doesn't want to tear up her life and build one somewhere else – which is the same thing I want, by the way – you're going to do it instead. She has all the power here and you're just letting her use it however she wants."

_Don't talk about her that way,_ he wants to snap, but instead he says, "It's not that simple. You know it's not."

Jo relaxes just the slightest bit. "Yeah, I know it's not that simple. I know it's hard."

"It is!" he answers. "It _is_ hard. And I'm trying to make the right choice in a situation that feels impossible. So let me make the right choice, Jo! Be on my side!"

"Stop it," she shoots back. "Don't make this about me. This is about you, and how you've decided that the only right choice is to run away from your life and into a new one."

That ends the civil portion of their conversation.

The fight lasts all day – no one gains any ground. No one makes any progress. They just go around and around until both of them are furious and blind to anything else but their fury. They don't touch. They don't take a break. They just fight.

It feels ugly.

They're gearing up for another round – toe to toe, faces contorted – when Alex's hotel phone rings.

"Great," he mutters as he stalks towards it. "Someone probably called the front desk."

He wrenches the receiver from its cradle. "What?" he barks into the phone.

There's a pause and then an uncertain child's voice. "Dad?" Alexis says, her voice wavering slightly.

Every ounce of his anger evaporates, immediately replaced by shame. "Hey!" he says gently, trying to erase his shout from seconds before. "Hey, honey. How are you? Are you home from school?"

His daughter perks up immediately. "Hi Dad! We tried to call you on your cell phone but you weren't answering. Mom called your hotel for us."

He bites back a curse and looks down at his watch. Five thirty.

"Sorry about that, sweetheart," he says. "I got... I got distracted."

"Eli says he wants pepperoni on our pizza," Alexis charges on. "I do too but I also want sausage and Mom said we could have both but she didn't know if she should order it or if she should wait for you or if you were going to bring it to the house."

Self-loathing crashes over him. He'd completely forgotten that he told the kids they'd spend the evening together.

"Yeah... yeah, sweetheart, we can have both. Can I – can I talk to your mom, please?"

"Okay!"

There's a scuffling in the background before Izzie's voice echoes over the line. "Hey! Sorry, she's really into using the phone these days, I figured I'd let her try it out. You about ready to head over? Do you want me to order the pizza or do you want to pick it up?"

"Go ahead and order it, okay?" he says. "I'll give you cash when I get here."

"Don't be silly. I've got it." She hesitates and then asks, slightly wary, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah.... Yeah, Izzie, I'm fine."

"You don't sound... Did it go all right at the hospital?"

"It went fine. It's fine. Go ahead and order the pizza, okay? I'll be there soon."

He hangs up before she can answer.

He composes himself: forces his shoulders to relax, his fists to unclench. He takes one deep breath, then another. Then he turns to look at his wife.

She barely looks like the person he knows. Suddenly she seems like a stranger.

"I told the kids we'd have dinner together," he says, low and striving for calm. "I told them I'd stay until bedtime. Can we just – put this on hold and go over there and try and act normal for the night?"

Jo doesn't answer for a moment. "I don't... I don't think I should go over there."

"Jo." He forces himself to reach out and touch her arm, gently. "Come on. Come see the kids. We can – we can talk to Izzie. She can tell you more about Shawnee County. You'll see; it's a good place, and you'll be able to do good work there. It's—"

She pulls away from him. When she speaks again her voice is softer; she is calm and firm. "Alex. I love you. I would do just about anything for you and you know that." She takes a deep breath in. "But I'm not going to change my mind on this."

"Jo—"

"Go see the kids. Enjoy your night with them. I've got some things I can do here. We can talk more about this tomorrow, when we're at home."

He stares at her, uncomprehending. "What do you mean when we're at home?"

"Our flight is tomorrow at eight AM. We never changed it. We're supposed to fly back to Seattle."

A panicky feeling fills up his chest. "I'll call the airline now. I'll change it."

The softness in her tone fades. "No."

"No?"

"You can change your flight. But if you do..." Tears fill her eyes but she stands firm. "I'm going back to Seattle tomorrow, Alex. We can talk about this at home."

* * *

It's a rare moment for Izzie: the kids are playing nicely together in the living room without requiring any input or intervention from her. She's taken advantage of it to pour herself a glass of chianti and just sit down at her kitchen table, her feet stretched out onto an extra chair, and be still. Well – her body is still, anyway. Her brain has been a jumble since Alex went in for his second interview.

He's going to get the job, of this she has no doubt. His training is too good; his track record is better. He's established and accomplished and passionate. There wouldn't be a hospital in the world that wouldn't want him.

But what does that mean for Izzie?

It's a good thing – that much she knows. Her children will be close to their father. In the few weeks that they've known him she's seen a joy in them that doesn't compare to much else; whatever else happens, that joy will carry her through. And even though they aren't getting Alex alone – he is a package deal with Jo, who has been nothing but kind to Izzie's kids; whatever else is true, so is that – having him close by is going to open the twins' world in meaningful, beautiful ways.

So it's a good thing – even if, as Dylan so succinctly put it, Izzie is going to spend the rest of her life watching the man she loves be in love with someone else.

The doorbell chimes, drawing her out of her reverie.

"Pizza's here!" Izzie announces.

Her children let up a roar from the next room and launch into some sort of stomping triumphant dance.

"Hustle and wash your hands for me, okay?" she asks through a laugh. The ruckus subsides as they stampede back to the bathroom. Izzie opens the door and smiles to see that Alex is already there, shuffling a handful of bills as he pays the teenager toting the box.

"Oh hey," she greets him.

"Hey," he mutters. The delivery guy shuffles back off to his car and Alex shoulders past Izzie into the house.

"What's going on?" she asks him, startled, following him into her kitchen.

"Nothing." He slams the box of pizza down on the counter.

"Tell that to that poor pizza," she jokes.

Alex passes a hard hand over his jaw and levels her a low, fiery look. It stops her cold.

"God, what's wrong?" she asks, shocked at his expression of what can only be described as malice.

But he presses his lips closed and looks away from her. The kids' footsteps echo down the hall. He shakes his head once at Izzie, then plasters a smile onto his face as the twins bound into the room.

"DAD!"

"Okay, which of you ordered the fish and broccoli pizza?" he asks them, pretending to consult an imaginary notepad.

It goes on like this for the rest of their dinner: he's warm with the children and a stranger to Izzie. She tries at first to coax him out of it, but whatever happened, whatever sunk Alex's mood so deep is more than Izzie can erase with no information and a smile. Eventually she simply goes to the fridge, pulls out a beer, and pours it into a mug for him. She sets it in front of him without a word; he accepts it the same way, drinking half of it down in nearly one gulp.

_Just give him some time_ , she tells herself, trying to ignore the anxious queasiness rising in her body. _Talk to him after the kids go to bed._

Dinner ends and the kids run off to their rooms to find some Lego creation they've been wanting to show Alex all day. Izzie starts cleaning up the crumbs and the plates when Alex clears his throat.

"Izzie. Would you... maybe clear out? Let me have a little time alone with the kids?"

She glances over her shoulder at him. The heaviness is still in his face; his shoulders are still screaming anger.

"What _happened?"_ she can't help but ask.

He doesn't answer.

Frustration starts to edge out the uneasiness. Whatever this is, it's brought out the old Alex: closed off and pissed off and unreachable.

"Fine," she says crisply. "I've got some work I can do. I'll be in my office."

And she grabs the bottle of wine and her wine glass and marches off.

She works steadily, fueled by her growing irritation. A tiny, reasonable part of her brain suggests that maybe something really bad has happened – maybe Richard Webber has taken a turn for the worse – but that part is slowly being drowned out by the wine.

Eventually there comes the pounding of little fists at her door.

"Come in!" she calls, hoping she's banished her bad mood from her face.

The twins charge in, clad in their pajamas, a book she doesn't recognize in their hands. She smiles at them, ignoring Alex, who she can see lingering out in the hallway.

"Ready for bed, my loves?" she asks as they crowd around her desk. She combs her nails through their silky hair. "Teeth brushed?"

"Will you come read with us?" Eli asks, presenting the book. "Dad brought us a new Llama Llama book!"

She glances into the hall, but Alex doesn't meet her eyes. He's staring at the children.

His expression almost banishes her anger. He looks... lost.

"I think maybe your dad wants to do stories tonight," she hedges.

Eli shakes his head. "No, it was his idea! He said we should read together like a family!"

How is she supposed to say no to that?

"Of course," she answers. "Let's hit the hay."

It's a sweet bedtime. They read _Llama Llama Gives Thanks_ , the twins sandwiched between their parents, their breathing getting slower and deeper as sleep creeps in. When the book is over, Alex and Izzie kiss their twins and say goodnight.

Izzie leaves, but Alex lingers in the door. When, halfway down the hall, she realizes he isn't with her, she glances back. He's looking into the kids' bedroom with what can only be described as devastation on his face. He looks like he's trying to memorize the scene.

She waits for him in the living room. In a few minutes she hears him come down the hall. He detours into her kitchen, grabs himself another beer out of her fridge, and joins her.

He throws himself down on the couch, opens the beer, and drinks.

Izzie, still standing, hovers behind the couch. He doesn't look at her.

"You didn't get the job," she guesses.

"No. I got it." He finally looks back at her. "Regina Lisette wants to retire. She wants me to be her replacement."

"That's... that's _really good news_ , Alex. So why—"

"Jo's here," he interrupts.

Izzie goes still. The trepidation she felt earlier comes roaring back.

"Why didn't she come... Alex. What happened?"

In a low monotone he lays it all out: Richard Webber and the one-in-a-million diagnosis and his wife showing up and their huge, shattering argument and how she's getting on a plane tomorrow, with or without him. It's a lot to take in, but in the end, Izzie understands one thing.

If Alex moves to Kansas, Jo will not come with him. It will change his marriage in a fundamental, irreversible way, if it doesn't ruin it entirely.

Alex finishes talking. Izzie, perched on the back of the couch, considers her hands, folded in her lap.

She thinks about all the things she wants to say about Jo Karev.

She thinks about all the "divorced family" advice books she's skimmed in the past few weeks: about the fact that the way she treats her children's father and his wife and is so supremely important and influential.

She thinks about her children – the way they will grow up depending on the choice she makes, apparently, right now.

She thinks about Alex – the way she loves him, the way she wants to banish this anguish he's feeling right now.

She thinks about what she wants for herself.

So when she speaks, she keeps her voice calm and clear.

"You should stay in Seattle."

Alex hunches forward, his forearms resting on his knees. "Without the kids," he answers.

She flinches at his tone but tries to continue. "We will... we will start talking to family lawyers about long-distance custody arrangements. I'm not going to screw you out of a relationship with them. It's... I don't want to be without them that long, but maybe the year on, year off situation is going to be our best option."

Alex is silent. For so long he's quiet. When he finally speaks, it's like a bomb.

"Why are you doing this?"

Izzie's calm recedes. "Why am _I_ doing this?" she demands.

He launches up off the couch. The anger he'd tamped down into cold monotone is spilling up now, visceral and hot. His eyes on her do not hold an ounce of love.

"Why are you pushing me away?" he answers, stalking around the couch to face her. She can tell he's keeping his voice down as well as he can, but it's rising steadily anyway. "Why are you just... washing your hands of the whole thing? Why aren't you telling me to stay?"

"You want that? You want me to tell you 'Screw your life, screw your marriage?' That's what you want from me?"

"I want you to yell!" he finally shouts. "I want you to be pissed off! I want you to want me to be here for them!"

"I'm trying to help you," she shoots back. "I'm trying to be the bigger friggin' person here!"

"Why? Why can't you just..." He drags his hands through his hair. "Just _act like you care."_

"Don't you dare." He's come around to face her now, standing inches away, his fury emanating from his body in waves. It hits her like a blast from an oven. "I care, Alex. I _care."_

"So why aren't you acting like it?" he challenges. He gets closer, right up in her face. "Why are you being so – so _cold?"_

_"Because I love you!"_ she yells.

She might as well have hit him. He reels back from her, stunned, and Izzie realizes with stark clarity that the game has changed entirely, that she's ruined everything, but she's too mad to care.

"I love you and I'm not – I'm not going to be responsible for ending your marriage, Alex, because _I want you to be happy more than I want you with me._ All I want is for you to be happy! I want you to have everything you want, and if that means I have to spend months or _years_ away from my children I will try, I will try that for you because _I'm in love with you."_

And then impossibly, inconceivably, Alex's hands are in her hair and he's tilting her head back and finally, _finally,_ he is kissing her, his tongue parting her lips, his chest and hips and thighs pressed against hers.

She kisses him back. She never wants to come up for air.

"I love you, too," he whispers into her mouth. Their kiss softens, becomes tender and longing and sweet. "Iz. I'm in love with you, too."

She throws her arms around his neck. He runs his own hands down her back and over her ass and down to her legs and suddenly he _lifts,_ hauling her into the air. She wraps her legs around his waist.

He carries her into her bedroom.

* * *

He's afraid if he blinks it will all evaporate: the cascade of Izzie's hair over her naked back, her warm breath across his chest, the feeling of all her skin flush against the length of his body. He strokes one hand up and down the length of her spine, memory and sensation melting together in one amazing rush of feeling.

It's all so clear, suddenly. He is in love with Izzie. He never stopped. He broke her and she left him and he moved on and he found someone new, but underneath it all, underneath the time and loss and all the space in between, he has loved her forever.

He presses his lips into her hair, gently at first, because he thinks she's asleep, but harder when she stirs and speaks his name. "Alex."

Alex moves the kiss down to her mouth.

"We have to..."

"We don't," he answers, lifting her chin to kiss him again. "We can just be here, just for a minute."

At first it seems to work. She melts into their kiss – how could he have forgotten the feeling of making Izzie Stevens go completely limp with a kiss?

But too soon she ends it. She pulls back and sits up in her bed, knees to her chest. She looks down at him, and even though he knows what's going to happen will launch them back into reality, he marvels at the sight of her. She's only getting more beautiful every day he knows her.

"I meant what I said," she tells him. "All of it."

"I know you did."

"That I love you. That whatever you want for yourself is what I want for you."

They're quiet for a long pause before she goes on.

"And Alex, I think what you want is to be married to Jo."

He goes to interrupt her but she holds up a hand to stop him.

"You married her. Because you love her. And I think... I think you didn't get married to get divorced again."

He sits up next to her. "I do love Jo," he says finally. She looks away, her eyes suddenly tear-glazed, and he reaches over to turn her face to his. "But I meant what I said too. I love you. I don't... I don't think I ever stopped."

He kisses her again. She skims her long, lovely hands over his hair and shoulders and chest, and it's enough to make him want to drag her back down into bed.

But he holds back. When he kissed her hours earlier, he was sure it was the start of something entirely new. Now, as she kisses him with so much love, so much tenderness, he realizes she's saying goodbye.

"I can't ask you to choose me," she tells him when she moves away. "I would never ask you to choose me just so you can have your children. They're not bargaining chips. And neither am I."

"I know that."

"And I can't... spend the rest of my life thinking that I turned your life upside down again. I can't... be that person."

"Iz..."

"Can you..." She reaches down to hold his hand. Her chin trembles the slightest bit; he wants to kiss it so she won't cry. "Can you let me do this for you? Can you let me try and give you this? Can you let me be the bigger person? Please, Alex?"

The tears spill over. He crushes her to him, presses her face against his neck.

He holds her until she falls asleep.

* * *

When Izzie wakes up the next morning, there are three envelopes in the empty bed with her: one for Eli, one for Alexis, one for her.

He's gone.


	15. Season 16, Episode 23: Remember My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is back in Seattle, and he's not okay.

_"I need something bigger than the sky,_

_Hold it in my arms and know it's mine._

_Just how many stars will I need to hang around me_

_To finally call it heaven?"_

* * *

_Two weeks later._

As Jo's voice rings out across the loft, it is clear she has had enough.

"Alex. You have to come in to work."

He quits pretending to be asleep and rolls onto his back. She's standing at the foot of the bed, dressed for work, her arms folded across her chest in angry slashes.

"I'm taking time off," he reminds her. "Cleared it with Bailey." By contrast his voice sounds like it hasn't been used in ages – which, he supposes, it hasn't. He's mostly spent the last few weeks walking aimlessly around Colman Dock, scarfing down street food when his empty stomach finally roars its complaints, coming home and climbing into bed long after he's sure Jo will be asleep.

"You're moping," she retorts. "You'll feel better if you get up and come to the hospital."

She moves to the side of the bed and reaches out to touch his shoulder. The idea of anyone touching him makes something molten and acidic rise inside him. He shrugs out of her reach.

"Look. I know things are... not good now. With us. And I know you miss Eli and Alexis. But come to work: see some patients, be a superhero for a little bit. It'll help, I know it will." She gestures coaxingly to their dining table where a thick courier's envelope lays in the very center. "Or hey, if you don't want to come in, go over the custody proposal the lawyer sent over. Get the ball moving on that. The sooner we do that, the sooner we'll get to see the kids, right?"

"...right."

He falls silent again, hoping she'll take the hint and just go to work.

She does, but not without a sigh and a slam of the door behind her.

He considers going back to sleep, but now that she's drawn attention to it, he can't look away from the envelope on their dining table. He's not scared of what's in those custody documents: he trusts Izzie completely. But the minute he opens the envelope and looks at what Izzie and her lawyer have drawn up, his choice will become real.

And he is putting that moment off as long as he can.

So instead he gets up and takes a shower, turning up the water as hot as it will go. The shower is the only place he really lets himself think about Izzie – about her laugh and her eyes full of love for him and his fingers spread wide across the place where her waist meets her hips. If he thought he missed her before, it is nothing compared to now. Now he is hollowed out without her.

He's dressed and puttering around the kitchen when someone knocks at the loft door.

His heart jumps, supercharged. _Please..._

He practically sprints to the door and flings it open.

It's the only time in his life he's been disappointed to see Meredith.

She sweeps her eyes over him. "You look like crap."

He rolls his eyes. "Jo send you?" he asks.

"No. Bailey did."

He wasn't expecting that – and because it was Bailey, he lets her in.

"I'm fine," he says preemptively. He grabs a box of cereal and shows it to her before shoving his fist into its depths. "Eating and sleeping and all that. You don't need to check up on me." He crams a fistful of cereal into his mouth.

"Okay then." She grabs his jacket off a hook on the wall and tosses it to him, nearly making him drop the cereal. "So then where are we going?"

"Uh, nowhere?"

"Well I know you haven't been holed up here for the past two weeks." She gestures around the tidy loft. "Too clean."

"Har har."

"C'mon." She jerks her head to the door. "Let's go. Wherever you want."

He considers fighting her, although only for a minute. Instead he puts down his cereal, pulls on his jacket, and leads the way out the front door.

He pretends not to notice when Mer slides the custody proposal into her bag.

* * *

"Better than work, right?" Alex asks Meredith a few hours later.

They've been walking around the docks all morning, talking and not talking, and now have settled in on a prime bench overlooking Elliot Bay, cones of French fries with some weird and incredible tahini sauce from a food truck clutched in their hands. It's one of the few perfect days Seattle sees in a year, high blue skies and light breezes that tug Mer's hair into a dance around her face.

Meredith grins at him and shrugs. "I don't know if I'd say that, but the food's better, anyway."

They eat in silence for a few minutes. Alex is as close to content as he's been since he left Izzie and the kids. He closes his eyes and tilts his face up to the sun.

Mer shuffles next to him. When he opens his eyes, he sees that she's reached into her bag and pulled out some patient files and X-rays and the envelope from the loft.

It drops his mood right back down again.

"I don't—"

"Then don't. I will." She hands him the case files. "These are two surgical cases that came in yesterday. Peds. You look at those, I'll look at this."

Huffing in annoyance, he flips open the folders and peruses the cases within. Two peds patients, one age nine, the other fourteen. The teenager has one of the most advanced cases of pectus carinatum he's ever seen, but nothing he couldn't handle, maybe with Link to consult. The other is a little less clear-cut: if he had to guess without actually seeing the patient himself, he'd guess biliary atresia.

They're interesting, involved cases: the kind of cases that will keep him busy and distracted for the rest of the month.

But he can barely make himself care.

He glances over at Mer. She's got the last page of the document in her hands, a thoughtful crease between her brows.

When she notices him looking at her, she nods in encouragement. "It's fair," she says. "One year on, one year off, switch off at the start of the summer... Whoever the kids are away from gets Christmas, the other parent gets Thanksgiving. No child support clauses, the kids are supposed to check in with the non-residential parent once a week at minimum. I think it's a really good deal."

She offers him the papers. He doesn't take them, looks out over the Bay instead. It's somehow less beautiful now.

"Alex," she says.

"I used to be so freakin' stupid," he tells her. He looks down at the cone of fries rapidly going cold in his hands. "Before. When Izzie was..." He shrugs. "I made shit choices and I hurt people and I was just... an ass. But I grew up. She left and it sucked but I grew up. I learned, you know?"

"We all did," Meredith says. "That's how it works."

He goes on. "And besides the crap with DeLuca a few years ago, it's been a long time since I felt _that_ degree of stupid. You know? The kind of stupid that wrecks your life. But as soon as I walked away from her – I mean it, Mer, the exact second that I closed the door behind me – I felt like that same stupid fool. Leaving her made my old life full of stupid mistakes look like nothing."

Meredith hesitates. "Leaving her? Not... not leaving the twins?"

"Leaving _her_." He swallows hard. "I know I'm married. I know Izzie and I have been over for a long time. But I also know..." He makes a fist and presses it, hard, over his heart. "I know how I _feel_. Physically. And it hurts, Mer, _it hurts me_ to be here."

His friend doesn't say anything. He finally risks looking at her, and the relief that comes when he recognizes the look on her face as compassion chokes him up.

"But what I don't know," he goes on, clearing his throat, "is what I'm supposed to do about it." He gently knocks his fist over his heart, once. "What the _right_ thing for me to do is."

"Alex..."

"What?"

Mer reaches over to hold his hand. "I think you do know."

* * *

He gets home earlier than he has in weeks; he doesn't feel good, per se, but he feels light. Lighter than he's been, anyway.

When he gets inside, the bathroom door is closed; the shower is running.

He hangs up his jacket. Toes off his shoes. He starts towards the fridge to get himself a beer but doesn't even make it to the kitchen. He stands stock still in the center of the loft.

That's how Jo finds him twenty minutes later when she wanders out from the bathroom, toweling off her hair.

He turns to look at her. Neither of them speaks, until...

"Just say it," she says, voice low.

So he does.

* * *

"Izzie?"

She glances up from the countertop and manages a smile for Anh as she enters the room.

"Finally asleep?"

The other woman nods wryly as she gathers up her tote bag. "Alexis refused to be still until after our third Amelia Bedelia story." She chuckles. "Little dictator. I couldn't say no."

"You're a godsend." She finishes the task before her – the preparing of a large white pastry box – and plucks a slim white envelope from her mail-holder. She presents both of these to Anh. "For you."

"What is this?"

"A peach galette. And a bonus... for how much you've stepped in the past few weeks. I know I haven't been myself, and that the kids have been... challenging... since their dad had to go back to Seattle. But I also know having you around makes them feel better. And me. It's been... invaluable." She impulsively grasps Anh's hands and squeezes. "I don't want you to ever doubt how much I appreciate you."

"My girl, I never do." She pulls her hands away and peeks into the pastry box. "And this is _two_ galettes."

"One for your daughter." She glances bitterly at the heap of peach pits and skins on her counter. "I had to get rid of all those damn peaches."

She walks Anh out, giving her a final hug in the hall before shutting the door behind her. Izzie wanders back into the kitchen, where she robotically begins sweeping the detritus from her galette into the trash. Once the countertops are clean, she moves to the sink, where she dons a pair of flowered rubber gloves and begins washing the dishes.

Within thirty minutes the kitchen is clean. She peels off her gloves, glances over to the clock. There's a moment where she considers going to bed, but the minute she does, the memory of Alex in her bed blooms in her mind – as has happened every time she has entered that room for the past couple of weeks.

She pulls out her flour instead.

She sifts and measures. She cuts butter and pours cream. She zests so many lemons her fingernails will probably smell like citrus for a month. The clock ticks towards midnight. Her kitchen smells divine. Mountains of muffins rise up on her counter tops. She sets a batch aside for Dylan, a batch for Leta, a batch for the nursing staff.

When she's done, she starts to clean up again. Exhaustion creeps in, but the idea of going into her empty bedroom fills her with an unspeakable dread. Maybe she'll crash on the couch again.

Is this how Alex felt when he told her to go and she listened, all those years ago? This misery compounded with the knowledge that if she hadn't told him to leave her, she might not feel so hopeless and lost and deeply, painfully sad?

She buries her face in her hands, brushing a smear of flour onto her cheek.

And almost misses the sound of the front door opening.

Her head snaps up. "Anh?" she ventures hesitantly.

It's not Anh.

It's Alex.

The bags under his eyes are dark and creased; she can't guess the last time he might have slept. His hair looks like it hasn't seen a comb since he left and he smells like car coolant and gas station coffee.

He's the best thing she's ever seen.

She lets out a sob-choked laugh, and the sound breaks the impasse. They rush to each other.

It might be minutes later, it might be hours, but eventually Izzie stops kissing him. The smudge of flour from her face is on his cheek now. She laughs and tries to brush it away.

"What—" she whispers.

"Just... give me a second," Alex interrupts. "Let me say what I have to say.

"You upended my life. You did. You... showed up with these two kids and the second I knew they were mine, nothing could be the same. Nothing _should_ be the same when you learn you're a dad."

"I—"

"Iz." He kisses her again, gently now, not hungry like before. "Shut up. Let me talk."

"Okay," she answers.

"Yes, you changed my life. Nothing is the same. And when you told me to go... I know you thought it was kinder; I know you were trying to make it so I didn't have to give up everything. But Iz..." He shakes his head. "But some things are worth giving up everything. And this chance – the chance to be the kind of dad I want to be – that's worth it, Iz."

He pauses to tip her chin up so they are looking into each other's eyes. "And the chance to have a life with the first person I loved... the life we should have had together for all these years... Iz, that's more than worth it."

"I should have moved to Seattle," she says, scrubbing at the tears on her cheeks. "I should... I should have said yes to you, Alex. You're braver than I am. I'm so sorry."

They kiss again. This time it's a promise.

"I love you, Iz. This is the life I'm supposed to have. With you."

"So you're staying," she says.

"I'm staying."

_Alex is staying._

If she wanted to, she could fly.


	16. Season 16, Episode 24: Make Them Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six weeks later, Alex returns to Seattle.

_"We are made up of our mistakes,_

_We are falling but not alone._

_We will take the best parts of ourselves_

_And make them gold._

_We are made of the smallest stars,_

_We are breathing and letting go._

_We will take the best parts of ourselves_

_And make them gold."_

_* * *_

The light in the bedroom is pre-dawn gray when something gentle pulls Izzie out of sleep.

At first, she thinks it's Alexis, but no, Alexis is curled up under Izzie's chin, sound asleep. Her next thought is Eli, but like his sister, he's still snuggly and snoozing in a tangle of her sheets.

She opens her eyes to see Alex crouched by the side of the bed, studying his sleeping family. He's dressed and his duffel is waiting at his feet.

"Hey," she whispers. "You about ready to go?"

He shakes his head. "Yeah, but... I don't want to."

She stretches out a hand and lays it on his cheek. He turns his face to kiss the palm of her hand; she still gets a joyful thrill each time he kisses her.

"It's just for a few days," she reminds him. "I think it'll help."

"Yeah... maybe."

He glances away from her to the kids. "I'll call them every night."

"I know you will."

"Give them a kiss for me when they wake up."

"Of course."

He pushes up to his feet and leans over for a kiss. He lingers over her for a minute, pressing their foreheads together.

"I love you, Iz. I love our family."

"We love you back."

He leaves quietly. A few moments later she hears an unfamiliar car drive him away.

* * *

Even after only six weeks, Seattle feels like a place he used to know rather than the home he had for fifteen years. He leaves SEATAC and is immediately greeted by a cool mist on his face. The bank of clouds overhead is pillowy and low, and the wind is straight off the bay, carrying the scent of cold and salt. He immediately finds himself missing the glossy stretch of sky in Kansas, the way it folds itself all the way down to the horizon, and the smell of sun-drenched grass. Strange; he didn't think he was a fan of Kansas until this very second.

He goes to Bailey's house first.

Ben answers the door and claps him on the back, which is encouraging.

"How dead am I?" Alex asks Ben in an undertone as they walk down the hall.

He gets a rolling shrug and a lopsided grin in return. "Maybe not as dead as you'd be if they hadn't just hired Hayes... but less dead than you'd be if you'd stayed."

Alex grins back. "Yeah, that's about what I expected."

Bailey is in their kitchen, dumping a series of fruits into a huge, gleaming blender. She looks unsurprised to see him – which is not to suggest she seems happy to see him. In fact, he's pretty sure she intentionally makes and holds eye contact with him the minute she pushes the GRIND button on her food processor.

But when he walks over to fold her small frame into a hug, it only takes her a second to soften and pat him on the back.

"I love you, Dr. Bailey."

"Stop that," she scolds him, pushing him away. She looks up at him critically. "I assume that means my heartfelt letter helped smooth the wheels that you gunked up after you turned down that very promising job offer?"

Alex nods. "That and a little bit of groveling."

"Hmph. So you have learned something after all." She pours the smoothie she's made into a frosted mug. "So. Tell me about the new job."

He tells her about Regina Lisette and the solid little program she's created. He tells her about Jenks, the skinny, plucky grant underwriter Izzie introduced him to who has already helped him apply for two peds grants that they're practically guaranteed to receive - the first step to creating the first-rate peds program he's envisioning. And though she hasn't asked, he knows she wants to know, so he tells her about being a dad, about the weird thrill he gets every time they spill into his and Izzie's bed at some ungodly hour, about how sometimes he hauls them both up into the air, just to feel their sweet weight in his arms.

"I couldn't do any of it without you," he tells her when he's run out of things to tell her.

"You're a good doctor, Alex. You'd do it just fine."

"No." They're sitting at her kitchen table now, and he reaches across the tabletop to squeeze her hand. "You know that's not true. None of it, the job or the dad stuff, any of it. You're the first person who gave me a chance to grow up."

She's touched and trying not to show it. She briskly pats his hand, then after a moment says in a rush, "I forgive you for leaving."

"Thanks."

They both rise from the table. "I suppose that will serve as an exit interview," Bailey says, walking over to her cabinet and removing a to-go cup. She dumps the remains of her smoothie into it. "But you've still got a mountain of paperwork to do. You ready?"

This is the part he's been nervous about, but he nods.

"I'm ready."

* * *

He doesn't see her when he and Bailey enter the front doors.

He doesn't see her on the seemingly interminable walk up to Bailey's office, where an HR rep is waiting with what Bailey had accurately described as a mountain of paperwork.

He doesn't see her when he stops by the attendings' lounge and empties the contents of his locker into the cardboard box Bailey provided him after he hugged her goodbye.

But just when he thinks he's in the clear, he heads for the elevators... and there she is.

She doesn't see him. She's got her face buried in a chart, that crease of concentration he knows so well knitting her brows together. She looks... fine. Tired, sadder than he left her, maybe, but fine.

She still looks like Jo.

He steels himself for a rush of sensation. He's dreaded this moment since he bought his plane ticket back to Seattle, frightened at what he might feel when he sees the woman he's spent the last six years loving. He wants to run from the feelings, whatever they might be... but he doesn't. He forces himself to feel them, to let them fill him up, to face them down.

And it doesn't hurt.

He wishes he hadn't wounded her so deeply – of course he does. But amazingly, he doesn't feel the thing he'd feared – that pull back to her he was so scared would sneak in – because there's just no room for it. There's only room for Izzie and the kids, for treehouses and cookouts and book reports. The future fills him up so much there's no space to miss Jo or the life he had before he heard Izzie's voice on the phone.

He rides the elevator down and takes an Uber to his lawyer's office.

* * *

Meredith walks into her house that night to a cacophony of happy chatter. She nearly trips over a pair of men's shoes as she goes to hang up her coat and purse. Puzzled, she follows the din back to her kitchen, and stops in the doorway. Alex, Maggie, and the kids are all seated around the table, the kids each talking over each other, a carton of what must be every item on the Chinese takeout menu spread out in front of them.

She hadn't expected her heart to hurt quite so much when she saw him again.

"Mom!" Zola squeals when she walks in. "Did you know that Uncle Alex is living on a farm?! He's going to teach me how to ride a horse!"

She meets Alex's eyes on a laugh. "Oh, is he?" she asks Zola, leaning down to kiss her hair. She gives Bailey and Ellis a peck before reaching out for an empty plate. "Did you ask Uncle Alex if he knows how to ride a horse?"

"I'll learn before you visit," Alex assures Zola as she swivels her head at him questioningly. "How hard can it be?"

Meredith chuckles and fills up her plate with dinner. She eats mostly in silence, preferring to listen to Alex and Maggie and the kids, soaking up the beauty around her. Because she knows: no matter how much they pledge to visit, how much they'll call and text and email, that this is still some kind of goodbye.

Alex is leaving, and she is going to miss him more than she could have dreamed.

The evening goes by too fast, and before she knows it, Alex is kissing her children, hugging Maggie, promising to name a chicken after Ellis. The noise and commotion fades as the kids go up and get ready for bed; suddenly the quiet is deafening and there's only her and Alex, her person, standing in front of her door, delaying the inevitable.

Like he's read her mind, he tells her quietly, "You know you've always been your own person."

"I refuse to let you make me cry," she tells him. "We're not ruining a perfectly good streak by me crying in front of you."

He folds her into his arms and she grips him back fiercely. He is one of the places she's always felt at home.

"I don't know how to do this without you," she says.

"You're a force of nature, Mer," he answers. "I'm not worried about you in the least."

He kisses her on the temple. She breaks her promise not to cry.

And then he's gone.

* * *

Izzie's already awake when he stumbles through the front door early on Sunday morning.

He pauses a minute to take her in: steaming cup of coffee in hand, fluffy blue robe falling open at the throat, reading glasses slipping down her nose as she pages through her novel. It's not his imagination – she's really getting more beautiful.

He crosses the living room and stretches himself out on the couch, burying his face in her stomach. She puts her novel aside and runs a hand over his back. He sighs at how good it feels.

"Welcome home," she says.

He looks up and meets her smile with his own. "Thanks."

"How was it?"

Her voice is mild; tentative; underneath the question are other questions she's too afraid to ask.

_Was it hard?_

_Do you regret leaving?_

_Do you miss her?_

He reaches up and kisses her: slowly and deeply. The way he plans to kiss her every day for the rest of their lives.

"It was hard to see Bailey and Mer and the kids," he says. "Hard to say goodbye."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." They kiss again. "But I'm glad I'm home."

"Me too." A mischievous look crosses her face. "Want to see what I found?"

He raises one eyebrow at her. She grins and flourishes her left hand at him. "Ta da!"

Sitting on her hand is a chunky plastic ring, white and studded with tiny sparkling rhinestones. Their "wedding ring."

Alex laughs and shakes his head. He takes her hand and examines the ring. "Seriously? You still have this?"

"I gave it to the kids for their dress-up bin," she answers. "I'm reclaiming it."

"Oh, are you?"

"Mhm." She waggles her fingers at him and grins again. "I'm never taking it off."

He sits up and pretends to consider this. "That might make certain things challenging."

"Such as?" she teases.

"Giving you this."

And from his pocket he extracts a delicate, glimmering eternity band. Watching her jaw drop is the most satisfying thing.

"I always felt bad you never got a real one," he says. He gently slides the silly plastic bauble from her hand, replacing it with his ring. "Figured this would make up for it."

She shakes her head, marveling. "You didn't need to do this."

"We don't need rings," he answers. "We're already forever. We're already a family. But I figured it couldn't hurt."

She presses her hand to her chest, eyes gleaming with tears. "I love it."

"Good."

She pulls him back to her, winding her arms around his neck. They sink into their kiss and let it build: passion and promise and potential. The future.

They're interrupted by the sound of a stir and a thump down the hall. They break apart and grin at each other ruefully.

"I'll continue to thank you properly later," Izzie says.

"Can't wait. In the meantime... Waffle Sunday?" Alex offers.

"Perfect."

He reaches down and pulls her up off the couch. They link hands and walk into the kitchen, where their children run to meet them.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed my imaginings on what it might have been like if we'd gotten a full goodbye storyline for Alex Karev <3


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